Anything For You
by RaindropsOnMyTeaCup
Summary: Francis was a world-famous singer, with the voice of an angel – when he wasn't too lazy to use it. Arthur had been his agent for two years, and it was remarkable, considering Francis was one of the most difficult people to be an agent for. He was insufferable, but Arthur wouldn't have it any other way. FrUK (Rated T for language and implied sexual themes).
1. On Tour

**Hi! So I know I've been inactive for a while and that is still going to be the case, save for these random moments when I have ideas and free time to write. I hope you will be patient as I will give you what I can XD**

 **For now, I hope you enjoy this!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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 **Chapter 1**

A pale morning light peered through the gaps in the blinds, creating horizontal lines that fell upon a sleeping figure in his bed. His blonde hair caught the sun beams, creating the illusion of golden locks framing his handsome, peaceful features. A sudden, abrupt knock on the trailer door shattered his slumber though, and the man dragged his cerulean eyes open in annoyance, perturbed by the disturbance.

"Francis, are you awake yet?" a voice called through the door, familiarly British and familiarly unwelcome. Francis groaned and closed his eyes again, shifting under the covers to regain his previously comfortable position, but the knocking continued.

"Francis! Get your lazy ass up!" This time the command was followed by a jingle of keys and then the sound of the front door unlocking. Francis buried his face in the pillow, hating his daily wake-up call from the Englishman.

It wasn't long before he sensed the man entering his room, and it was confirmed when a gentle but firm hand slapped the back of his head. "Oi! We have a schedule to keep, you know – "

Francis growled. " _Oui, oui_. I'm up…." His voice was laced with a French accent thick from sleep, but he raised his head to see a man with fierce green eyes and unruly blonde hair frowning at him with monstrous eyebrows.

"It's about time, you lazy frog." The man who had so rudely disturbed his slumber was Arthur Kirkland, a grumpy, strict Englishman who harassed Francis daily.

 _Well, I suppose that's what I pay him to do._

"Get up and make sure you eat something before rehearsal." Arthur was ruthless, but being Francis' agent meant it was his responsibility to get Francis everywhere on time. The Frenchman was useless at it himself. Arthur set a cup of coffee on the bedside table as he always did, having been up an hour before to plunge himself into various calls and paperwork to maintain Francis' career.

Francis was a world-famous singer, with the voice of an angel – when he wasn't too lazy to use it. Arthur had been his agent for two years, and it was remarkable, considering Francis was one of the most difficult people to be an agent for. He never listened, he was too headstrong and he only ever thought about immediate events without considering the long-term consequences. Which meant Arthur had to counter that and do that kind of thinking for him. It was exhausting work, but Arthur wouldn't have it any other way.

Francis finally heaved himself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom to shower while Arthur called to make sure the rehearsal was still happening. Once that was done, the Englishman tidied up the clothes Francis had left on the floor. That wasn't part of his job description, but Arthur didn't really mind it. Francis eventually reappeared after selecting some tight jeans and a wine-red shirt, as he always made sure to look devilishly handsome no matter what.

 _That is one thing he's good at, at least._

XxX

After more nagging from Arthur, Francis was finally taken to the rehearsal. It was the day before his tour of Europe, and Arthur wanted to make sure he was completely prepared for it. Francis was a pain in the ass, but once he got up on that stage and began singing, Arthur would forgive him anything. Being able to hear Francis sing was what made Arthur's job worth it, as Arthur was secretly Francis' most loyal supporter. He had every album Francis had ever released, and often played them while doing his paperwork, but he kept that to himself. If Francis knew, he would probably take the piss out of him for it.

Now, Francis was up on the stage, revitalised after his shower and morning coffee, and now he sang his heart out as if for a full audience, even though the seats were empty. Arthur watched him from backstage with a small smile. Francis was one of those artists who sounded just as good live as they did on their records, and his voice washed over Arthur, soothing his previous stress and making Arthur feel relaxed again.

 _Yes, this was definitely worth it_.

Arthur had worked with Francis for long enough to know all his talents and his flaws. He knew that Francis was a perfectionist and his own worst enemy, and that if he didn't like what he was singing he would stop the whole thing and start again. He would never release an album unless he was satisfied with every track, and he never listened to his own music. Arthur smiled again to himself as he watched Francis suddenly stop singing and ask to start again, and he felt he knew the Frenchman better than anyone in the world, including his millions of fans. He knew that after rehearsal, Francis would keep practicing on his own for about an hour, and then he would tease Arthur about taking him out to dinner. Arthur would often take him out to dinner after rehearsals and would always have to endure Francis' teasing that it was a date.

 _Not that I would wholly object to that…_

Finally, the rehearsal ended and the band packed up, but as predicted, Francis stayed on the stage. Arthur always pretended to go and do paperwork at this point, but he would always secretly listen to Francis instead, because he sounded even better on his own. He didn't need music; his voice was a melody all of its own. Arthur was content to listen to the Frenchman forever, but then his phone went off and he sighed, going further backstage to answer it. As much as he loved hearing Francis sing, he had to be his agent before his fan.

It was a business call about the tour, confirming times and accommodation for Francis and the tour crew: Arthur always booked the best hotels for Francis, and they would usually have adjoining rooms so that Francis could call on him for anything. Their first stop was to be in Berlin, and then they would make various other stops at different European cities before ending the tour in Paris, so that Francis could stay at home for a few days. Francis had a huge mansion of a home in Paris, but he was hardly ever there due to all his tours and concerts. But Arthur tried to fit in time for Francis to stay home as much as he could, as he knew that Francis appreciated it.

As Arthur hung up, having finalised the accommodation in Berlin, he felt an overly friendly hand pat his ass, and he only rolled his eyes as Francis chuckled, standing behind him.

"Shall we go to dinner now, _cher_?" Francis asked, flashing Arthur a grin that Arthur used to hate but had grown to love.

"Yes, if you're ready to." Arthur replied, ignoring the nickname as Francis had called him that since he had met him. He didn't blush at the grin or the hand on his ass, as he had learned to conceal his embarrassment. Then again, he didn't object to that, either. Instead he grabbed his coat and walked Francis out of the building, greeted by a limousine and a bodyguard. Arthur remembered the days when Francis was just starting out and he hadn't needed all this security. But in two years he had come a long way, and now he had to have a bodyguard with him in public, even though he objected to it. Francis got in the car, and Arthur slid in beside him, getting out his phone to make another call while Francis looked out of the tinted window. While Arthur was waiting for the person on the other end of the line to pick up, he allowed his gaze to drift over Francis, taking in his handsome features discreetly, before returning his attention to the now available caller.

Francis sighed, watching buildings fly past as they drove to the restaurant, before having a change of heart.

"Why don't we have takeout instead?" he glanced at Arthur, who paused in his conversation and held the phone to his chest.

"I thought you didn't like takeout?" he raised an eyebrow in query, as this was out of character for the Frenchman, but he only shrugged in response. So Arthur sighed and told the driver to go back to the trailer instead, before resuming his call. Francis smiled slightly, before looking out of the window again. Sometimes being out so much got to him, and today he didn't feel like eating out. Today he just wanted a quiet evening in, without cameras flashing through the windows or waitresses fussing over him.

They arrived back at the trailer, as Francis, Arthur and the tour crew were temporarily staying in trailers before flying out to Berlin tomorrow. Arthur had ordered takeout from the limousine and now they waited in Francis' trailer for it to arrive. Francis stood, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Wine, _cher_?" he asked innocently, though he knew the answer would be 'no'. Arthur hardly ever drank alcohol, especially when he was working – which was all the time. But Francis always tried to persuade him to have a glass of wine every now and then anyway.

"No, thank you." Arthur was already looking through paperwork, which made Francis purse his lips slightly. It was nice that Arthur always made the effort to share dinner with him, but he was nearly always on his phone or doing paperwork while he ate. Although Francis knew it was for his benefit, he couldn't remember the last time he and Arthur had had a proper conversation that wasn't staggered by delayed responses from Arthur, because he was doing work simultaneously. Francis just nodded and sipped his own wine, before sitting on the sofa and turning on the television, only to instantly grimace when he saw news of his own tour. Arthur glanced over, watching him curiously.

"Why is it that you cannot stand your own success?" he asked, a smirk gracing his features teasingly.

Francis only sighed. "I like singing, I just don't like all the media that surrounds my career."

"Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you became a professional singer." Arthur stated, but it came out sounding harsher than he had intended it, and Francis looked down slightly. _Arthur was right. Arthur was always right._ But Francis wasn't good at anything else, and he had to make a living somehow. He turned off the television again swiftly, before going to his bedroom to change into something more casual. Arthur had returned to his work, barely noticing that the Frenchman had left the room, but he was interrupted by the arrival of their food, and he paid the delivery guy, before calling Francis to eat.

Francis had hoped that by eating in the trailer, they could have more of a conversation, but Arthur continued to do work while eating, not even acknowledging Francis' presence as he was concentrating on the paperwork, occasionally asking him questions.

"How would you feel about flying to France a day later than we originally said? That way we wouldn't have to rush to catch our flight – "

" _Oui_ , whatever." Francis replied shortly, picking at his food and twirling it with his fork, but he hadn't touched it otherwise. This made Arthur raise an eyebrow at him.

"What's wrong? Are you not hungry?" Francis met his gaze for a moment before putting his plate down.

" _Non. Excusez-moi_." Arthur blinked as Francis abandoned his food, getting to his feet and going to his bedroom instead, but he didn't think much of it, again focusing on the mountain of paperwork he had to do.

XxX

The Englishman continued working for a few hours, before he heard the faint twang of guitar strings and Francis' soft, murmuring voice. Arthur paused, amazed that Francis was practicing yet again, when he was already perfect. He got up, creeping towards the bedroom and listening through the door, but he blinked as he didn't recognise the song. It sounded beautiful, but Francis was singing so quietly that Arthur couldn't distinguish the words.

 _Maybe he is being quiet so he won't disturb me_ , Arthur thought, but he desperately wanted to hear the unfamiliar melody. He knew all of Francis' songs, and he even helped to write some of them, but this one was entirely new to him. He suddenly felt slightly upset at this, as Francis had always been desperate to perform his new songs to Arthur, but this was one he was actively concealing from Arthur. He knocked on the door softly, but the song stopped abruptly as he opened the door.

Francis looked up at him in surprise, his old acoustic guitar still resting on his lap, but he had halted his playing instantly. "Oui?"

Arthur smiled a little. "What were you playing just then?"

"Nothing." Francis answered shortly, and again Arthur felt a pang of sadness, or possibly even jealousy. _Maybe someone else had helped Francis with this one._

"It sounded nice – "

"You could hear it?" Francis sounded almost panicked at the fact Arthur may have heard the song.

"Well, I heard the tune…I couldn't quite make out the words though. Are you going to record it?" Arthur did not miss the relief that flickered across Francis' features, before he shook his head, putting his guitar back in its case.

"Non, it's just a stupid little thing I made up."

Arthur paused at this, noticing that Francis had been behaving somewhat peculiarly recently. He wasn't as flirtatious as usual, and instead he was more reserved and defensive. But Arthur just smiled, sitting beside him on the bed.

"What's the matter? Are you nervous about the tour?" Francis blinked, meeting his gaze, but he was afraid to tell him the truth so he just nodded.

"Oui, I suppose. I always get nervous."

"You'll be alright. Your tours are always amazing, you know that." Arthur patted Francis' shoulder slightly awkwardly, before standing. "Well, anyway, I have work to finish before our flight tomorrow. Remember, you have to get up early this time. No pratting about."

Francis just nodded, and the absence of a witty response made Arthur narrow his eyes slightly in confusion, but he just said goodnight and went back to his own trailer to continue his work.

Once Arthur had left, Francis ran a hand through his hair. He thought he was hiding it well, but Arthur knew something was different. The truth was, that lately Francis had been needing Arthur's attention more, and he got upset when Arthur was always working. He felt the need to impress him and make him proud, but Arthur never offered any praise. Francis couldn't put a label on it, but he cared for Arthur deeply, and he knew that Arthur did not feel the same way, and it hurt him. He sighed, looking at his little notebook which contained the song lyrics he had written. It was a song about Arthur, although that wasn't explicitly mentioned, but Francis was terrified that Arthur would find out. He tucked the notebook in his guitar case, before pouring himself another glass of wine, hoping it would calm him down. Francis was unaware, though, of just how deeply he had fallen for Arthur.

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 **A/N: Please let me know how you found this by reviewing, as constructive feedback is welcomed!**

 **If you want me to continue this please let me know~**


	2. Berlin

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Arthur had worked through the night, barely getting any sleep before he was up again. He showered and got dressed, collecting up his paperwork in his briefcase and neatly folding the remainder of his clothes in his suitcase. Then he stopped by a local coffee shop, getting himself a tea and Francis a coffee, and getting them both a muffin to eat as they wouldn't have time for a proper breakfast. He expected that Francis would be dead to the world when he knocked on his trailer door, and he almost dropped the coffee in surprise when Francis opened the door after barely three knocks.

"Jesus Christ, you're actually awake!" he exclaimed, and Francis rolled his eyes.

" _Bonjour_ to you too, Arthur." He was dressed and ready, in nice clothes because he knew the paparazzi would be there at both airports to snap pictures of him, and he had packed all his clothes too.

Arthur smiled and handed him his coffee and one of the muffins, but Francis didn't seem to have his appetite back as he returned the muffin. "The coffee will do me just fine, merci."

"You can't survive on coffee alone, Francis – " Arthur was about to launch into a lecture about how he needed to make sure he ate and was well-hydrated and such, but Francis gave him one look which made him reconsider. Instead, he just sighed. "Are you ready to go?"

" _Oui._ " Francis grabbed his jacket and sunglasses, as if it were a crucial disguise, but everyone would know who he was no matter what he wore. Arthur helped him load his luggage into one of the cars, but he raised an eyebrow as he saw Francis' guitar case.

"You're taking that with you?" Francis usually left it behind as he never played guitar during his performances, but Francis nodded.

"If we have room for it."

Arthur hesitated, but then smiled. "I'm sure we will." He was puzzled though, as Francis was behaving somewhat strangely. Still, he could keep him happy, even if this was out of character for him.

XxX

The drive to the airport wasn't very long, but Arthur had taken care of three calls in the time it took. Francis stayed quiet, his expression brooding and thoughtful, but Arthur didn't have time between the calls to ask what he was thinking about. As soon as they got to the airport, the place was alive with people shouting questions and snapping pictures. The crew carried Francis and Arthur's luggage and the bodyguard escorted Francis through the media crowds, Arthur following behind and checking his watch nervously, even though they had arrived in plenty of time for their flight.

Francis was smiling for the cameras, but Arthur could tell it was his false smile, which was charming enough for the tabloids but it was far from genuine. The only relief from the press was when they entered an airport lounge with a section specifically for them, and Francis sat down with a sigh. Francis' bodyguard and some of the airport staff kept the press from coming near them, but Francis did not relax his composure. In public, he always acted like the Francis Bonnefoy the public knew and loved, and if something was bothering him, he never let it show. He was like that now as he smiled and hummed, spotting some fans on the perimeter of their area who were clearly amazed that they could see Francis, and he chuckled.

"Can I borrow your pen, _cher_?" he asked, taking the pen Arthur was writing with before the Englishman could stop him, and going over to the perimeter to sign autographs and take pictures with his fans. Arthur yelled after him, but sighed. Francis never disappointed his fans. Arthur called the bodyguard over to make sure Francis would be alright, though, before getting out another pen and continuing his work. He could hear the laughter and conversations of Francis and his fans, and he glanced up again to see Francis hugging a girl who was crying with excitement at seeing him. Arthur had always told Francis not to actually make contact with his fans but the damn frog never listened.

Soon enough, their flight was called and Francis reluctantly bid farewell to his fans, winking at them before being escorted back to the crew by his bodyguard. Arthur rolled his eyes at him but Francis ignored it, grabbing his things and they all boarded the flight. Arthur had the seat next to Francis, with his bodyguard sitting opposite them and the rest of the crew in other available seats. They flew first class, but Francis didn't like flying privately as he didn't want to appear to be someone who shoved their money in your face. First class was a compromise between him and Arthur, which suited them both. The flight was only a couple of hours, but Francis fell asleep as he nearly always did when flying, and his head rested gently on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur was still doing paperwork: his entire life consisted of it. But he actually quite liked Francis leaning against him, as he allowed himself to secretly relish in the fact that Francis wouldn't let anyone else this close to him. Arthur ran out of work to do before the plane was due to land, so he took a moment to admire Francis. He looked so handsome even when he was asleep, and Arthur let him rest as he had a busy few weeks ahead of him.

After a short while, the plane landed and Arthur gently woke Francis up, allowing him to compose himself and make sure he was still stunning for the cameras that would greet them once they had disembarked. Francis was soon wide awake again and ready for the media, and Arthur escorted him off the plane and into the crowd of paparazzi, German accents mixed with French and American, as some reporters had travelled with them to follow Francis' tour. All the questions seemed a blur to Arthur but Francis did an amazing job of answering them, his French accent making every word roll off his tongue as smooth as silk. His voice was incredible even when he wasn't singing. Arthur was concerned that the Frenchman would be overwhelmed by the media attention but Francis acted as if he was taking it all in his stride, and Arthur felt a swell of pride because Francis never embarrassed himself or said anything controversial, and he never got any bad publicity.

They managed to make their way through the sea of reporters and find their way to a car that was waiting to take them to their hotel, and Arthur helped Francis climb in, before getting in himself and sitting next to him. Once the car started moving, Arthur looked over at him.

"You've gotten rather good at handling the press." His tone did not fully conceal his pride and admiration as he had hoped it would.

Francis blinked, as it was rare that he got compliments from his agent, but it made him smile genuinely for the first time since yesterday. " _Merci_."

The hotel was not far from the airport, but when they arrived there, Francis was feeling rather jetlagged, as he was always more affected by flying than Arthur was. Arthur left him to rest in his room while he made some calls in the adjoining room, not taking the time to admire the lovely room as it was straight down to business now that they were in Berlin.

XxX

After a few hours, however, Arthur knocked on Francis' door, before letting himself in as he always asked for an extra key to Francis' room. He intended to wake Francis up, but he hesitated. Francis was still asleep, but his lips were slightly parted and his chest was bare as Francis never slept with a shirt on, and his sun-kissed skin stretched over his muscles beautifully. Arthur paused a moment, admiring him. He had loved Francis for quite some time, hence why he bent over backwards to please him and make sure everything worked out alright. He had tried to hide it though, as Francis was a famous singer who could have anyone he wanted – he would never be interested in a grumpy Englishman who nagged him all the time. This thought made Arthur realise he was staring at the sleeping Frenchman, and he blinked, before gently shaking his shoulder.

"Francis, wake up." He said gently enough, but his heart skipped a beat when cerulean eyes opened to meet his own. He always thought Francis had beautiful eyes. They sparkled when he sang. Francis groaned but slowly sat up, revealing more of his chest but Arthur did not blush, and instead he went over to Francis' suitcase and found an outfit they had previously decided on together.

"You need to be ready for your hair and makeup before the first show tonight." He explained, and Francis remembered that his first performance to kick start the tour was tonight. He stretched but then slowly climbed out of the comfy bed, showering and getting dressed. Arthur waited for him, trying not to notice how nice he looked in his black shirt and tight leather trousers. Francis always looked sexy when he was performing, and today was no exception. But Arthur made no comment, only hassling Francis to get ready or they would be late.

XxX

As it turned out, they arrived in plenty of time, and Francis was rushed into a dressing room for his hair and makeup, which was always more dramatic when he was on stage. Arthur felt jittery as he always did when they were on tour, as it would be his fault if something went wrong. He waited backstage, checking with the stage manager about lighting details and such, before sitting down and waiting for the show to start. After a few minutes, Francis walked past but paused and grinned, turning to him.

"How do I look, _cher_?" he smirked, as he always asked Arthur the very same question before he went on stage.

Arthur smiled. "You look very French." He replied teasingly, but this seemed good enough for Francis as he nodded approvingly, before going on stage.

Instantly, the audience screamed for Francis and the band began playing. But as soon as Francis started singing, an enchanted hush fell over the audience, who were mesmerised by his voice. Arthur smiled to himself, as this was what Francis deserved. He crept closer, peering from off stage and he watched Francis perform the song and choreography perfectly. It amazed Arthur that Francis never faltered, he always put his best effort in to please his fans. Throughout the evening, Francis still performed energetically and beautifully, and by the end of it all of his fans were screaming for him. It was an amazing performance, but then again, they always were – in Arthurs opinion, anyway.

Eventually, Francis backed off the stage, after bowing and blowing kisses to all his fans, but once he was off the stage Arthur could see he was absolutely exhausted. He smiled, escorting Francis back to the dressing room and sitting him down in the chair as he massaged his shoulders gently. "Are you alright, Francis?"

Francis hummed and nodded, still exhilarated from the performance, but Arthur didn't want him to strain himself. " _Oui_ , I think it went pretty well, don't you?" Francis looked up at Arthur via the mirror in front of them, and Arthur smiled and nodded.

"Very well indeed, I'd say." Francis' smile grew at this, and Arthur thought how handsome Francis was when he smiled genuinely. But he quickly dismissed the thought from his mind, taking his hands away from Francis' shoulders and humming. "Shall I let some of your fans in, then?"

"Hm? Oh, oui, of course." Francis smiled, but he was obviously exhausted, so Arthur only let a few fans in to greet him personally. Most were screaming teenage girls and it mentally drained Francis to be so energetic for them, but he was dedicated to his fans so he did his best. After an hour, though, Francis was dead on his feet, and he waited until everyone had gone before he sighed.

"Can we go back to the hotel now?" he asked sleepily, and Arthur smiled, nodding and taking his arm gently to escort him back to the car, which took them quickly back to the hotel. Arthur had barely opened the hotel room door for Francis before he sprawled on the bed, not even bothering to get undressed. Arthur rolled his eyes before coming over and sitting on the bed, gently starting to take his shirt off. He had to do this when Francis was too tired, but this time he blushed, which was uncharacteristic of him, and Francis noticed.

"You're blushing." He said, his accent lacing his words more thickly now as he was exhausted.

Arthur blushed a little more but frowned, taking Francis' shirt off. "Shut up, I'm not." He mumbled, but Francis just smiled.

"What about my trousers, _cher_?" he teased, and Arthur blushed again.

"You can manage them yourself, you lazy frog." He chastised, standing up and folding Francis' shirt, unpacking a few things that Francis would need easy access to in the morning, and when he turned around again, Francis had fallen asleep.

He sighed but smiled a little to himself, lifting the covers over him gently before hesitating, and then he placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, confident that the Frenchman would be none the wiser. He left the room silently, closing the door behind him before going to his own room and falling asleep almost as quickly as Francis had, his thoughts drifting to Francis as sleep claimed him.

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 **A/N: Please read and review and let me know how I'm doing~  
**


	3. Munich

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 _…Francis smiled, leaning against the doorframe in Arthur's study. They were in Arthur's house now, though Arthur didn't want to question it. He looked up and smiled back, as Francis came over and cupped his face with gentle hands._

 _"You work too hard, mon cher~" he whispered against Arthur's lips, before kissing him softly. Arthur was surprised but he felt Francis' love wash over him. It felt perfect…it felt euphoric...it felt…unreal…-_

Arthur woke up with a jolt as his alarm blared a horrible electronic shriek at him, disturbing his fantasy of Francis being in love with him. He groaned, slamming his hand down on the alarm hastily, but by that point the dream had faded completely, and Arthur could not reclaim it. It had been a good dream, but it had felt unreal. Arthur shook his head mentally and physically to repress any thoughts of his dream, before getting up and getting ready for another full day of phone calls and paperwork.

As he worked, he turned on the television to see a news report of Francis' tour, and how it had started so strongly. Arthur smiled to himself, but he knew Francis wouldn't watch the review as he never did. Still, Arthur felt proud of Francis as he had outdone himself wonderfully.

After about an hour or so, Arthur called downstairs for room service of a nice breakfast for him and Francis, and when it arrived he brought it into Francis' room, setting it on the table before waking him up again. This time it took several attempts as Francis was so exhausted from the night before, but eventually he woke up, yawning and running a hand through his lightly tousled hair. He blinked but smiled at the breakfast, as Arthur always ordered things that Francis loved, like croissants.

Francis dragged himself out of bed, grabbing a croissant before going out onto the balcony attached to his room, admiring the view. Arthur paused, glancing at him and rolling his eyes.

"Put a shirt on at least." He smiled though, tossing a shirt at Francis.

Francis blinked but caught it and chuckled, slipping it on but he didn't bother buttoning it up, which made Arthur roll his eyes again, though he didn't honestly mind.

XxX

Arthur watched from backstage as Francis rehearsed the choreography of his next performance with his backing dancers. Francis always moved with such grace that Arthur observed him in awe, and he loved watching him dance. Francis was putting all his effort into it, but he suddenly let out a yelp of pain as his expression changed from one of determination to agony. Arthur widened his eyes before rushing onto the stage, halting the practice and approaching Francis.

"Are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his tone flooded with concern.

"Ah – It's alright. I'm alright, I just did something to my foot…-" Francis forced a smile, pretending he was alright, but when he moved his foot, a shooting pain surged up from his ankle and he let out another cry of pain. Arthur knew that if Francis had injured his foot, he wouldn't be able to do his performance as well as he wanted to, so he phoned for a doctor to come and take a look at Francis, hoping it would heal before tonight.

Francis was always one to put on a brave face, and he was also horrendously stubborn, so naturally he insisted that he was fine and that it didn't hurt much. But Arthur knew him better than anyone and he knew that Francis was in a great deal of pain. The doctor concluded that Francis had seriously strained his achilles tendon from all the dancing, and that it was a very common injury for dancers.

"He should be alright to dance again in about eight weeks or so." The doctor confirmed, and at this Francis' face fell.

"What? _Non, c'est impossible_! I have to dance tonight!" he protested, and Arthur saw the tears in his eyes, but he sighed.

"I'm afraid we'll have to take out the choreography for tonight's performance." Arthur stated, but his heart wrenched as Francis looked even more hurt by that. He loved putting his all into performing and Arthur knew it, but the Englishman didn't want Francis to injure himself further. The doctor instructed Francis not to put too much weight on his foot until a cast could be put on it, but the advice fell on deaf ears as Francis was holding back tears. He managed to hold himself together until the doctor left, but then tears streaked down his cheeks.

"I-I have to dance! I'm on tour – I can't just stand there and sing!" his voice was broken by sobs, and Arthur sighed.

"I'll see what I can do to maintain the performance without hurting your foot further, alright?" he reasoned, but to Francis the performance was already ruined. The weeping Frenchman only made Arthur more determined to resolve this, though, and he left the dressing room Francis was resting in, speaking to the choreographers.

XxX

Tonight's performance was held in Munich, and the crew had flown, privately this time upon Arthur's insistence, from Berlin to Munich in just over an hour. Francis was still distraught, convinced that the performance would be ruined, however Arthur had come up with a plan to see them through the night. He had worked with the choreographers to fit lifts and such into the dance, so that Francis could be part of the dancing without injuring himself further. Francis didn't like the idea, but he had solemnly agreed to cooperate in order to redeem the show.

Arthur was on tenterhooks now though, as the show was about to start and he had no idea if his plan would work. Francis was still in a great deal of pain, but the doctor had put a cast on his foot and ankle, which was hidden by boots that Francis and Arthur had carefully selected. The whole show was riding on the fact that the audience would not find out about Francis' injury, as Francis insisted upon keeping up appearances.

The music began and Francis limped past Arthur, using a cane that seemed part of his Victorian Steampunk-style attire, but was actually helping him to relieve the weight from his injured foot. Arthur held his breath as Francis entered the stage, but so far all he received was cheering from his adoring fans.

The first few songs passed reasonably well, as Francis conformed to the lifts and such, but the Frenchman missed the dancing and he knew that his fans noticed the difference, so in the final song of the show, he went back to the old routine. Arthur widened his eyes as he saw Francis dancing, as it was such a foolish but also such a 'Francis' thing to do. Remarkably, Francis made it through the whole song without letting on that he was in pain, but after giving a final bow, he limped offstage, only to be greeted by a fuming Arthur.

"What the hell was that? We agreed you wouldn't dance tonight!" Arthur was only worried about Francis, but unfortunately it came across as anger at Francis disobeying him. Francis had never responded well to orders.

The Frenchman's face fell but then he frowned. "I pulled it off, didn't I?" he growled slightly, before limping to the dressing room and slamming the door, but once inside he let out a sob of pain as his injury had significantly worsened.

He knew Arthur was right – _he was always right_ – but Francis hadn't wanted to let down his fans. The plan had been a good one, but his fans wanted to see his performance, and his dancing was an important part of that experience. But now his foot hurt like hell and he didn't want to let Arthur know, because he was too stubborn to admit it was a stupid idea to dance in that show.

There was a soft knock on the dressing room door, and Arthur poked his head around the door, having heard his sobs.

"Shit, Francis. Do you want me to get you the doctor again?" this time he tried not to sound reprimanding, and instead concerned, like he was.

Francis sighed and wiped his eyes, shaking his head. "Non, just…some painkillers. And I can't see any fans tonight. I just want to go back to the hotel…"

"Alright." Arthur felt guilty about yelling at Francis, as he understood why Francis decided to dance in the final song. He just wished he wasn't so stubborn.

XxX

After Francis had gone to bed, dosed up on painkillers, Arthur put together some ideas of how to improve Francis' performances without further injuring his foot. He stayed up all night organising various things and working out the logistics of one particular idea, and finally he managed to make it all work. He had delayed the tour by one day so that Francis would be able to receive as much training as he could for the idea that he had in mind.

Francis protested when Arthur woke him up at the ungodly hour of six o'clock in the morning, but that was to be expected. Arthur ignored his protests and helped him get ready, bundling him into the car and instructing the driver to take them somewhere Francis had never heard of.

"What is all this about, Arthur?" Francis grumbled, moody because his painkillers hadn't kicked in yet and he hadn't had his morning coffee.

"You'll see." Answered Arthur, being as elusive as he could without pissing Francis off further.

XxX

"What on earth are we doing here?" Francis asked in bewilderment as Arthur led him into the gymnasium. "I'm not a gymnast, Arthur."

"No, but I've arranged for you to be given training in a particular area of gymnastics, so you can dance in your performances."

Francis blinked. "What? Really? How – I mean, what am I going to be doing?"

"Aerial silk."

"Aerial what?"

Arthur chuckled, pointing upwards to where a gymnast was dangling from a swing made out of ribbon, and Francis watched with wide eyes as she glided through the air beautifully.

"…You're kidding, right? I can't do that!" Francis squeaked, more than a little daunted by the thought that Arthur wanted him to swing from the ceiling with only ribbon to support him.

Arthur chuckled again. "Relax, you're not going to be doing everything she's doing. You're going to learn how to use the ribbon as more of a support than anything else – so you'll look fabulous without doing a whole lot."

Francis paused, about to question him again when the gymnast seemed to fly down from her ribbons, greeting Arthur and Francis. Arthur smiled, leaving Francis with the gymnast as he made some more calls.

XxX

After much negotiation with various venues, Arthur managed to arrange for ribbons to be attached to the ceiling of every stage Francis would be performing on, so that he would be able to use his newly learned skills in every performance on the tour.

Arthur came back into the gymnasium, and at first he couldn't find Francis, but then he spotted him gliding from the ribbons, and although it was a basic skill, it looked incredible. Francis could use the ribbon in a loop as a swing, or use it as support under his arms if he wanted more contact with the floor. It was perfect. It would work.

Arthur came over and smiled up at Francis, who looked stunningly graceful swinging from the ribbons. It definitely suited him.

"Francis, we need to get back to the hotel to pack." Arthur wanted to pay him a compliment, but he wasn't too good at finding the right words, so he avoided it altogether.

Francis didn't seem to mind though, as he lowered himself down gently from the ribbon, reaching the floor and wincing slightly at the contact, before smiling brightly. "This is perfect!" he exclaimed, reminding Arthur of an excited child at Christmas, and it made him smile.

"Come on…" he coaxed gently, and Francis begrudgingly grabbed his things, but he thanked the gymnast with genuine appreciation, before holding Arthur's arm to relieve the pressure off his foot, but it was also an excuse to be close to him.

XxX

They packed up their things and just made it in time for their next flight to Vienna. The performance would be tomorrow, and Arthur wanted to make sure Francis was well-rested before then, but Francis insisted on at least practicing his singing.

After working in his own room for a few hours, Arthur knocked on Francis' door, but he wasn't there. A little panicked, Arthur phoned down to reception to ask whether they had seen Francis, and they informed him that Francis was using the back room to perform in. The thought provoked anxiety in Arthur as Francis could hurt his foot again like the stupid idiot he was. He rushed downstairs to the backroom, to find Francis, sat on a chair – much to Arthur's relief – playing his guitar and singing using a microphone the hotel had provided. There were about fifty guests who had happened to glance in and decided to stay and watch the performance, and Arthur's expression softened as he took a seat near the back. Francis didn't know he was there, and continued to sing beautifully and passionately to the guests who only vaguely knew who he was, but certainly recognised his talent.

Francis performed for them for a few hours, until it was rather late in the afternoon, and then he finally decided to pack up, receiving a round of applause from his impromptu audience. Arthur smiled and stood, applauding as well, and Francis widened his eyes but smiled as he spotted him at the back. Arthur came up to the front as the audience slowly filtered out of the room, and he smiled.

"You were wonderful, Francis."

Francis smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment I just heard? _Non_ , it can't have been, coming from my own agent~"

Arthur chuckled and shrugged lightly, before offering Francis his arm and taking his guitar case from him gently. Francis accepted the help gratefully as Arthur escorted him to his room, where Arthur coaxed him to rest for a while before taking him out to dinner. The press were waiting like a pack of hungry dogs, ready to seize any juicy information about the tour, but the news of Francis' injury remained hidden from the press that night.

Arthur only hoped that they would be so lucky for the rest of the tour.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review and tell me how I'm doing~**


	4. Vienna

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

Francis sat in the dressing room, fretting about the upcoming performance. He was paranoid that everything would go wrong and that he would let down his fans, but he did not voice any of his concerns, instead keeping them to himself. He stood up, this time concealing his cast with some outrageous blue and gold boots that Arthur had said looked trashy, but they hid his cast and that was all Francis cared about. His makeup was blue and gold themed as well and though he definitely looked glamourous, it wasn't trashy at all. Francis could pull off anything, and he knew it. He smirked to himself slightly, trying to ignore his concerns. He hadn't seen Arthur since arriving at the stadium in Vienna, and he had assumed Arthur had found some corner to work in.

Francis heard someone call that he was on soon, and he donned a false bravado that was 'The Francis Bonnefoy', before leaving the dressing room. Arthur was backstage as he usually was, and when he saw Francis, a bizarre expression settled on his face.

"What?" Francis asked in amusement, as his blue and gold outfit was skin tight and definitely unique.

Arthur looked him up and down, before shaking his head and chuckling. "Only you could pull that off."

Francis grinned at him, before heading on stage as the music started up, and this time he used the ribbons to perform his dance routine. Even from behind, Arthur thought it looked remarkably stunning, and the audience seemed to think so too, as they cheered louder than they ever had before. Francis had a headset microphone so that both arms were free to support himself, and he seemed freer than ever gliding across the stage. Arthur watched him, lost in a daydream of how beautiful Francis was, and how much he wanted to be swept away with Francis on that stage. He looked otherworldly, like he was too stunning for this earth. The audience were hypnotised by him just as much as Arthur was, and at the end of the show, Francis received an explosion of applause.

Arthur clapped too, seeming unaware of how transfixed he had been by Francis' performance, but he smiled when Francis used the ribbons to perform an elaborate bow to signal the end of the show, before gently lowering himself down and heading offstage. This time Arthur saw that elation filled him, and Francis beamed.

"That was amazing! It was the best thing I've ever done!" Arthur was about to say something in return when Francis suddenly hugged him tightly. Arthur blinked, hesitantly patting Francis on the back. "Oh _merci, cher_! Thank you for arranging that for me!"

Arthur paused, as this was the first time that Francis had properly acknowledged the work he had done, and he smiled. "You're welcome, Francis." And then, after a short moment, he added, "Anything for you."

This made Francis smile and he quickly kissed his cheek. It was simply a gesture of gratitude, but Arthur blushed at it. Francis had never kissed him before, not even on the cheek. Francis blushed faintly too, before he chuckled and then excused himself, going to the dressing room to get changed. Arthur just stood there for a moment, touching his cheek and smiling a little goofily. He realised then that he meant what he said. He really would do anything for Francis.

XxX

The next morning, Arthur got a call from a global magazine, wanting to do an interview with Francis on his latest performance. He arranged to call them back, before knocking on Francis' door and going in.

"Francis?"

The Frenchman was sat on his bed, strumming his guitar somewhat lazily, but he blinked and looked up when Arthur came in. " _Oui_?"

"How would you feel about doing an interview to a global magazine? It's about last night's performance." Arthur smiled a little, as he knew Francis loved interviews.

Francis gasped and smiled. "Really? Oh, of course! Today?"

Arthur nodded. "In a couple of hours. What were you thinking of wearing?"

The Frenchman set down his guitar, before scrutinising his suitcase for anything to wear, pouting a little which always meant he 'had nothing to wear'. Arthur rolled his eyes. "I guess we're going shopping, then."

XxX

Francis loved shopping: if Arthur wasn't with him, he would probably go shopping everyday. But Arthur acted as a mediator for Francis' obsession with clothes, and he always went with him to make sure he wasn't spending _ridiculous_ amounts of money on _ridiculous_ items of clothing.

Now, Arthur watched as Francis browsed through designer shirts and tight-fitting trousers, humming to himself and smiling when he found something he liked. He would turn to Arthur and ask his opinion, and then be reluctant to show Arthur the price. It was always the same routine, but Arthur nonetheless enjoyed shopping with Francis.

The muffled babble of the press outside the shop was easily forgotten as Francis teased Arthur about wearing a shirt that looked too tight to breathe in, and Arthur swatted his arm lightly in response. Francis laughed – a deep but silky laugh, and one that Arthur always loved to hear.

"What about this one, _cher_?" Francis asked, holding a pale pink shirt against his chest and turning to face Arthur. It was nice, and it made his cerulean eyes even brighter.

"It's horrendously overpriced, Francis." Arthur protested, despite wanting him to buy it.

Francis only pouted and then decided he was going to try it on, whisking Arthur over to the changing rooms and instructing him to 'wait here' while he paraded around in the clothes he had selected. Arthur sighed but complied, sitting on one of the plush little poufs and waiting for him.

After a few minutes, Francis returned in impossibly-tight trousers and the pink shirt, and Arthur forgot how to use words for a moment. He looked stunningly seductive – the look Francis always endeavoured to achieve. When Arthur's only response was a small stuttering squeak, Francis laughed.

"I take it you like this outfit, _oui_?" he teased, doing a full turn for Arthur, allowing the Englishman to admire how the tight trousers clung to Francis' ass expertly.

 _Oh yes, he definitely liked it._

XxX

After several hours of fruitful shopping, Francis and Arthur arrived back at the hotel with five new outfits, each as sexy as the other. Francis decided on the pink shirt and tight trousers for the interview, washing his hair and making it shine before delicately putting on his makeup. Francis always wore makeup – it suited him. Arthur didn't think he needed it though, as he was handsome enough without it. But Francis never listened to him.

"How do I look, Arthur?" Francis stood up and turned to his agent, who was sitting on his bed sorting out his recent purchases.

"Hm? Oh, yes you look very French, indeed." Arthur smirked slightly, knowing Francis had wanted a genuine compliment, but he knew the Frenchman would get praised enough at the interview. "Now come on, or we'll be late."

" _Oui, oui_. I'm coming." Francis smiled, admiring himself in the mirror and making sure everything was absolutely perfect, before pulling on his coat and allowing Arthur to escort him downstairs. His foot still hurt like hell, but he was slowly getting better at walking on it. Arthur was adamant that Francis use him for support though, so the two of them walked out to the car arm-in-arm.

Francis smiled to himself as he got in the car, loving how Arthur was hyper alert for any sign that the Frenchman might be in pain. However, his smile faded when Arthur got another call, and he sighed, sitting back in the seat as they were driven to the interview.

XxX

Despite being in Vienna, the interviewer was thankfully American, and she was already a huge fan of Francis'. She briefly talked him through the questions she would be likely to ask, but Francis didn't spend any time preparing answers – he never did. He just answered as truthfully as he could, and it had served him well in the past.

Arthur only saw the cameras begin to roll on Francis and the interviewer before he got another call, and he slipped into a different room to answer it. Francis saw him leave out of the corner of his eye, and a pang of something wrenched at his heart, though he wasn't sure what it was or why it had occurred.

The interviewer was a petite, young woman with neat, dark hair and dark eyes. She had crossed one leg over the other during the interview and was now sat leaning towards him slightly, asking him questions about his performance.

"Now, we're all dying to know: who picked those extraordinary boots you wore, Francis?" she asked, glancing at the camera and smiling as if she and the audience had a secret connection.

Francis hesitated, but then chuckled and shrugged. "My agent suggested them. But, I will confess there was an ulterior motive behind those boots."

"Oh?" the interviewer prompted, raising a neatly groomed eyebrow.

" _Oui._ I recently suffered an injury to my foot whilst practicing for the performance in Munich, and the boots hid my cast~" Francis finally admitted, and the interviewer looked surprised. Francis chuckled but then lifted his trouser leg to reveal his cast, as if to prove he was telling the truth.

"Oh – we would never have guessed you had suffered an injury with the performance you gave, Francis! That makes it even more amazing!"

Francis just shrugged, before smiling. " _Merci._ I couldn't let down my fans."

"How admirable." The interviewer smiled, before glancing at her notes. "Now, something else we've been dying to know about. Is there someone who has caught the eye of Francis Bonnefoy?"

 _Ah, here it was. The gossip that all reporters secretly craved. Well, why not give it to them?_

Francis smirked, pausing a moment before nodding. " _Oui,_ actually. Someone that I've known for a very long time."

The interviewer leaned a little closer in anticipation. "Will you tell us who she is? Is she another celebrity?" her tone was excited and hungry for the juicy details, and Francis felt almost powerful withholding the information from her.

"Well, I can't give away everything. All I will say is that this someone is a _he_ , not a 'she'."

This earned a sudden hush from the audience, before they erupted with applause. Francis had neither confirmed nor denied his sexuality publicly before, but now he had revealed that he was gay and he knew the media would eat it up and regurgitate it by spewing magazine articles all over the world. But Francis didn't mind. He had never tried to hide it.

The interview came to a close shortly after that, and Francis was escorted offstage by his bodyguard. Arthur was still making calls – he had missed the entire interview and had no idea what Francis had revealed. The Frenchman smirked a little.

 _He's going to lose his shit_.

XxX

Arthur pounded on Francis' hotel room door, barely waiting for him to answer before unlocking the door himself and barging in.

"What the fuck happened in that interview?!" he demanded, having had a barrage of phone calls about Francis 'coming out' on live television.

Francis was sat out on the balcony, nursing a glass of wine calmly. He glanced over as Arthur stomped out to the balcony to confront him. "What's the problem, _cher_? I think it went rather well."

"Rather _well_? What the hell possessed you to confirm that you're gay on live television, without even getting my advice on the subject first?"

"It's not a big deal, Arthur…"

"Yes it bloody is. Look at this!" Arthur grabbed Francis' hand and dragged him back into the room, before jabbing the TV remote to turn the television on. Instantly, news of Francis' 'shock reveal' blurted from the screen, and the reporter classed it as "a disappointment to his fans". Francis frowned, hating to see himself on television but hating the fact that his sexuality was referred to as a disappointment even more.

"What bullshit." He mumbled sourly, turning away from the television.

"Do you know what this means, Francis?" Arthur turned on him, his tone demanding answers. "This means that all your teenage girl fans are going to go off you because now they can't have you."

"They couldn't have me anyway." Francis interjected, and Arthur looked like he was about to explode with frustration.

"It's about the illusion, you idiot! For fuck's sake, these girls would dream of worming their way into your bed, and even if that was highly unlikely in the first place, it's now a downright turn-off!"

Francis furrowed his brow, as he had never wanted to be seen as the king of celebrity who would exploit his fans by sleeping with them. He had never done so, and he didn't like to have that reputation, either. "Maybe that's a good thing."

"Or maybe you've just lost your fans because you couldn't keep in the fact that you're gay." Arthur frowned, switching the television off promptly and throwing the remote on the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to try and fix your massive screw up."

The Englishman left the room as suddenly as he had entered, and Francis felt a rush of different emotions. He felt relieved that everyone finally knew he was gay, but he was mad that it was such a big deal. And he hated that Arthur acted like he had revealed the worst possible thing about himself. He sighed in frustration, flopping back on the bed and screwing his eyes shut.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 **A/N: Please review! I value your opinions~**


	5. I Quit

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

The flight to Budapest was awkward and quiet, as Arthur was still pissed off at Francis about the interview. He sat opposite Francis, doing his work silently and listening to music through his earphones. He was listening to Francis' songs, but he wouldn't talk to the man himself.

Francis, on the other hand, was drinking wine and receiving various snacks and such from air hostesses who were still sucking up to him.

 _Clearly they haven't watched the news_ , Francis thought, but he knew he'd added another problem to Arthur's long list of things to fix. An apology wouldn't do any good at this rate – they would all just have to wait it out. Francis glanced over at Arthur, who was using his pen so forcefully that Francis thought he might rip the paperwork with it.

Arthur was angry at Francis. He never bloody listens to me. In fact, Arthur would not be surprised if Francis did it on purpose sometimes, just to piss him off. It worked. The next song on Arthur's playlist was one of his favourites: it was one of Francis' earlier songs and it was acoustic. Arthur loved hearing Francis sing while playing his guitar, and the song calmed him down a bit. He glanced discreetly at the Frenchman, feeling guilty for yelling at him. He understood why Francis needed to clarify his sexuality.

Francis had confided in him a while ago that he used to be bullied in school because he was never interested in the girls. He would be called a pervert and a rapist and all other manner of horrible things, simply because he preferred men to women. Arthur's heart had melted for Francis when the Frenchman told him, sobbing and struggling to hold his cigarette. He had smoked then, but he quit last year, and now he only smokes if something very, very bad has happened.

Right now, Francis began itching for a cigarette. He hadn't had one in over a year, and he had never craved it, either. But now, this tension between him and Arthur was unsettling to him, and he felt he needed something to calm his nerves. He drummed his nails on the armrest of his seat, agitated and anticipating the plane to land.

Arthur saw Francis' unrest, raising an eyebrow as he didn't know what the matter was, but if he needed something, he would come to Arthur for it.

XxX

Driving to the hotel in Budapest, Arthur continued to notice that Francis was somewhat jittery.

"Are you alright, Francis?" he finally asked, this being the first thing he had said to him since that morning.

Francis nodded, bouncing his leg a little before he sighed. "Do you have any chewing gum or something?" he mumbled, and Arthur blinked but nodded, reaching into his pocket and handing Francis his packet of gum.

Francis took one in relief, as it provided some distraction from his craving, temporarily at least. He didn't want to smoke. It would ruin his voice and his health, both of which he needed in excellent condition. Arthur watched him curiously, wondering what was wrong, but he realised he still felt guilty about lashing out at him earlier, and he sighed.

"…I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to yell at you like that." He began meekly, as Arthur was never very good at apologising, especially not to Francis.

The singer just shrugged, however, looking out of the window. "I screwed everything up for you. Again. I'm surprised you didn't scream at me, to be honest." Francis sounded a little distant, as if pretending that Arthur's outburst didn't affect him at all, but Arthur knew it had.

"How can I make it up to you?" the agent asked, again a little timidly, wanting to relieve his guilt somehow.

Francis paused, before glancing at him. "Could you arrange another interview for me?"

Arthur blinked, and a million thoughts rattled around his head: _Why? So you can fuck things up even more?_

But instead, he looked at him. "Why?"

The Frenchman smiled slightly. "So I can make amends, I suppose."

Arthur was understandably hesitant, but he reluctantly nodded, pulling out his phone and calling another magazine to ask about an interview. Francis smiled a little, hoping that he would get another chance to fix things himself, so that Arthur wouldn't have to.

XxX

Francis was actually nervous. Usually he took interviews in his stride, but this time he felt he had a particular message to put across, and he was afraid of messing up the delivery. This time Arthur would be watching the interview right there with the live audience, and that made Francis even more anxious. But he decided to don his false bravado and hope for the best.

The interview began and this time it was a male interviewer, who had clearly heard that Francis was gay and seemed a bit apprehensive about the subject, but when it was brought up, Francis launched into a spiel he had mentally prepared.

"I am aware that news has been travelling around about my sexuality. Well, I am not gay." He stated simply, and the audience hesitated. This made Francis chuckle, "Non, in fact I can go either way, really. I am attracted to both males and females~" after saying this, he turned directly to the camera and winked at it. "I hope this clears things up."

Arthur blinked but then he smiled, feeling a wave of relief as hopefully this would no longer deter his fans. Francis was so confident and charming during the interview that Arthur found himself admiring the Frenchman again. Francis always sat back in his seat and lounged his arm along the back of the sofa to show he felt relaxed and comfortable, even if he was only pretending to be. He was no longer hiding his cast, either. Since the last interview, Francis had been more candid about his injury, and the public had been sympathetic. Hopefully this new interview would make amends from the previous interview, though.

XxX

It certainly seemed to, as over the next few days, Francis was more popular than ever. He had a rush of new fans and the majority of them were male, as well as his old teenage girl group. Francis' face was plastered over magazines and the television, and his songs were played more on the radio. Everyone seemed to like a celebrity who actually told the truth.

It made Arthur wonder, however, just how true Francis' confession had been. He convinced himself he only wanted to know out of interest, but deep down, he wanted to know whether Francis could ever return his feelings.

Arthur and Francis were now in Milan, and the performance had sold out before they had even arrived in Italy. Francis was in much higher spirits, more enthusiastic about using the ribbons in his shows every night, and happier about the publicity he was getting, too. Currently, he was in his dressing room, putting on the base of his makeup, but he jumped slightly as Arthur came in.

"Did I make you jump?" Arthur asked in amusement, coming over and sitting next to the dressing table.

Francis smiled. "A little." He returned to doing his makeup, before noticing that Arthur was watching him, and he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Arthur paused, but then smiled. "Was what you said in that interview true? Are you bisexual?"

Francis blinked but then chuckled. "You're as bad as the paparazzi, _cher_."

Arthur shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm just curious, that's all."

Francis hesitated, before humming and starting on his eye makeup. "Well, it's sort of true. I mean, I could easily be with a man or a woman, but I prefer falling in love with someone for their personality, not their 'equipment', shall I say." He glanced at Arthur, before smiling a little and then looking back at his mirror.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, I suppose that makes you sensible, After all, looks fade, but someone's personality usually gives an accurate representation of themselves. Except if they keep up a false bravado all the time~" he teased slightly, looking pointedly at Francis.

The Frenchman only chuckled. "I'm allowed to, that's part of my job. You should know that better than anyone."

Arthur smiled, but his smile was a little brighter than Francis had expected. The Englishman's heart beat a little faster as he still held out hope that one day, maybe when Francis had retired and Arthur was more his friend than his agent, maybe then he would stand a chance of being with him.

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted when the makeup artist came in, having arrived late, but she took over from Francis and Arthur left the room, leaving the makeup artist to do her work. Arthur took up his usual position backstage, sitting down and making the final arrangements for the end of the tour. This was the penultimate performance, and Arthur knew Francis was excited about going back to France. The Englishman was happy about it too, as Francis was always far more cooperative in his own country.

Francis soon walked past Arthur to go onto the stage, looking absolutely stunning as his cast was visible but he wore a far more elegant outfit, that Arthur knew would look amazing when Francis was swinging from the ribbons. Francis winked at him before heading up on stage, using the ribbons to support him again, but he got a screaming applause from the audience before he had even started. Arthur smiled to himself, knowing that this was going to be one hell of a performance.

XxX

That night, after the performance had finished, Francis and Arthur were back in the hotel, sharing a room service dinner. Neither of them had the energy to go out for dinner, and they just sat on Francis' bed, watching television instead. Francis had changed into something more casual, and the two of them were going over what would happen once the tour was over.

"We'll stay in France for a bit, and while we're there you can record a new single." Arthur mumbled trying to multitask eating and looking through the notes he had made.

Francis nodded. " _Oui_ , alright. Will you stay with me when we go back to France?" he asked innocently, and Arthur paused, looking up at him.

"Do you want me to?"

" _Oui._ You've never stayed overnight before, and there's plenty of room for you~" Francis lived in a huge Parisian mansion, and Arthur had always wanted to stay over, as his crummy apartment in London presented no competition. The mansion had its own swimming pool and recording studio, not to mention a dozen bedrooms and a study.

"We could record my new song in my studio, _oui_?"

Arthur hummed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose we could. Well, alright then. As long as I can use your study."

Francis chuckled. "Of course _, someone_ has to, and it's not likely to be me." He smiled, and Arthur met his gaze. His eyes always sparkled when he smiled. It was beautiful.

Francis noticed he had caught Arthur's gaze and he paused, blushing faintly, before smiling again. "You know, _cher_. You've always had such brilliant green eyes."

Arthur paused, blushing faintly at this. "I have? I…I've never thought much of them." He stuttered slightly, as he had been taken aback by the sudden compliment.

Francis smiled again, finding Arthur's blush cute. All at once he realised that it wasn't a cigarette he had been craving. All this time, he had desperately wanted to kiss Arthur. But he had never felt it was so achievable in the past as it could be right now. He wanted so badly for Arthur to love him back, but he didn't know how to voice his feelings.

 _Actions speak louder than words though, don't they?_

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Arthur had picked up on the fact that Francis was indeed staring at him, as if making a decision about something.

But Francis only answered his question by leaning forward and connecting their lips in a soft, gentle kiss. Arthur's eyes widened, but for once his brain gave up and his heart took over, as he kissed Francis back, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. This was what he had always wanted. It was sudden and unexpected, but Arthur didn't care. Francis gasped slightly as he hadn't expected such a strong reaction, but soon he rolled on top of Arthur, pressing him against the bed as he tangled their tongues together heatedly. Arthur reached up, tangling a hand in Francis' golden blonde hair, as Francis broke the kiss, placing gentle kisses along Arthur's jaw. The Englishman smiled, fluttering his eyes closed, but suddenly his brain took over again and he realised what was happening.

 _Francis doesn't love me. He's playing with me._

This single thought was enough to convince Arthur that Francis' kisses were not full of love, they were full of lust, and his eyes suddenly wrenched open, before he harshly pushed Francis away from him.

"W-What the hell are you playing at?!" The Englishman demanded, but he had tears in his eyes as he so badly wanted to continue.

 _But it's not real, you damn fool._

Francis pulled back, his expression one of confusion. Hadn't Arthur been kissing him back? "I…I'm sorry, _cher_ …I thought you – "

Arthur frowned, pulling back even more and climbing off the bed frantically. "You thought you could just fuck around with me and then pretend it never happened the next day, right?"

"What? Non, I – "

But Arthur wouldn't let Francis explain himself at all, having convinced himself that Francis was just bored and wanted to fuck him just for the sake of it, and the thought hurt him more than anything.

"You perverted French bastard! I have done anything and everything for you and this is how you repay me?" Arthur was sobbing now, his tears flooding down his face but his tone was angry. "How dare you?!"

Francis' heart broke at Arthur's words, and he lowered his head meekly. "… _Cher_ , I didn't mean to offend you – "

"Don't fucking call me that!" Arthur all but screamed at him, and Francis visibly flinched. "You think that because you're a big celebrity you can do whatever and whoever you want – but you can't!"

He stormed towards the door, and Francis scrambled off the bed, landing heavily on his injured foot and wincing, but he let out a sob.

"Arthur, wait!"

But Arthur only turned coldly to him, fixing him with a stony gaze as he whispered. "Find someone else to play with. I quit."

Francis' heart stopped at this. He couldn't live without Arthur. Arthur had made him the man he was today, and he had stolen his heart. His head was screaming at him but only a whisper left his lips. "Non, please…"

But Arthur turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Francis broke down entirely then.

 _He couldn't…he couldn't just….leave like that…!_

They had been through so much together, they had been inseparable for two years and Francis had become dependent upon Arthur. And then he had to go and fuck things up.

The lonely, heartbroken Frenchman curled up on his bed, sobbing harshly, and the bedsheets that could have witnessed a night of passion, were wet with Francis' tears instead.

XxX

Arthur ran from the hotel, running until he had to stop or else his lungs would burst.

 _That bastard._

 _That stupid, fucking bastard._

He finally stopped, not knowing or caring where he was. It was well past midnight, and the streets of Milan were alien to him. But he couldn't go back to the hotel.

Arthur sighed, walking down the streets until he happened across a small, run-down house. He wouldn't have stopped, but through the window he could see an interview with Francis on the television. He had never gotten around to seeing the interview Francis had done after his performance in Vienna, and he hovered near the window to watch.

He widened his eyes at the part where Francis admitted he liked someone, as for a moment, his expression had turned to the same small smile he would often greet Arthur with. Though this time, Arthur finally realised what it meant.

 _He wasn't fucking around with me._

 _He loves me._

 _He…loves me._

Arthur's face fell as he realised all the horrible things he had said to Francis. He had called him a perverted bastard just because Francis had kissed him. He had even quit his job because of it. The Englishman sighed, hesitating for a moment before getting out his phone and calling Francis. He listened to it ring once, twice, three times. Arthur thought Francis wouldn't even answer, but then he heard the call being picked up.

"…. _What do you want, Arthur_?" a soft voice asked, thick with a French accent and broken by sobs.

 _Jesus, I'm the stupid bastard for upsetting him like that._

Arthur hesitated, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I'm truly, truly sorry, Francis. I didn't mean what I said…"

The voice on the other line was still sobbing, and there was a short pause. " _Which part didn't you mean? The part where you quit? Or…the part where you thought I was playing with you…?"_

Arthur cringed a little as he remembered everything he had said. "All of it. I'm sorry for everything I said." Around him, the distant sound of screeching car tyres signalled some boy-racers were up to no good. Such was the nightlife of any city.

". _..I-I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I offended you and made you so upset – "_

"No, you don't have anything to be sorry for. You didn't offend me, I was just…defensive."

" _Come back to the hotel, cher – Arthur…please."_

The screech of tyres was much closer now, but Arthur paid it no mind. "I will. I'll be there soon." He looked around him, before beginning to cross the road, but then Francis said something that made him stop in his tracks.

" _Je t'aime_."

 _Je t'aime._

 _I love you._

Arthur's heart skipped a beat at this, not realising he was standing in the middle of the road. "You do?"

" _Oui_ , of course I – " Suddenly a speeding car came hurtling round the corner, and Arthur didn't even hear the end of Francis' sentence as he was knocked off his feet.

" _Arthur_?"

A short, scrutinising pain exploded in Arthur's chest, but then his whole body fell euphorically numb.

" _Arthur?"_

The car scraped around another corner, not even stopping for the crumpled body on the floor.

" ** _Arthur?!"_**

Everything went black.

* * *

 **A/N: oooh I'm mean, aren't I?**

 **Please review!~**


	6. Wake Up

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

 _Beep_.

 _Beep._

Francis sat with his head in his hands, next to the hospital bed where Arthur lay. His hair was dishevelled and unwashed, and his makeup had been washed away by his tears. His hands were trembling almost violently but he did not dare to reach for Arthur's hand. He didn't want to hurt him.

 _It was my fault._

 _It was my fault that stupid car hit him._

 _If I hadn't kissed him in the first place, this never would have happened._

They were still in Milan, but Francis had paid a fortune to give Arthur a private room and pay for any surgery he might need. He was supposed to be in France, performing his last show of the tour, but he had cancelled it. He couldn't leave Arthur.

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

Francis slowly looked up at Arthur, who had been unconscious since the accident. His right arm was in a cast as his arm had broken his fall. His breathing was shallow and ragged as several of his ribs had been broken, and the doctors were not sure whether any had pierced a lung or not. They wouldn't know about head injuries until Arthur woke up.

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

The monotonous drone of the heart monitor, indifferent to its patient, drowned out the clamour of the press outside. Francis' bodyguard was outside the room, preventing the press from entering. Francis wasn't in the mood for media today.

All he cared about was Arthur.

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

Francis closed his eyes, remembering the squeal of tyres that suddenly silenced Arthur.

 _The bastards hadn't even stopped their goddamn car._

The police wouldn't do anything to track down the car and the driver, and Francis remembered screaming at the police officer. The only thing that made him stop was his bodyguard taking his arm and promising to take him to the hospital.

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

Francis had lost it when he first saw Arthur a few hours ago. All bruised and bandaged. No glimpse of his beautiful green eyes. Francis wanted, more than anything, for Arthur to open his eyes. But several hours had passed and nothing had changed. The same shallow breathing. The same beeping of the heart monitor.

 _At least he's alive._

A nurse entered the room, checking that Arthur had not changed, before leaving again.

 _It's a cycle._

 _A horrible cycle of beeping and nurses routinely checking on Arthur and the press outside and there's no way I can escape it._

 _There's no way out._

Francis held his head in his hands again.

 _Wake up, cher._

 _Wake up._

* * *

 **A/N: I wonder if Arthur's going to be okay...review, please! XD**


	7. Scribbles and Idle Strumming

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 _My arm._

 _My arm hurts._

That was the first thing Arthur became aware of as he slowly regained consciousness.

 _It hurts to breathe…_

 _Where am I?_

His dull, emerald eyes slowly cracked open, trying to recognise his surroundings. He was in a hospital, if he were to take a guess.

 _But why am I in a hospital?_

 _What happened?_

The Englishman slowly became more conscious, and he realised he was alone in a private room. There was no clock on the wall, and instinctively he reached for his phone, only to receive a throbbing pain from his arm.

 _Shit, I'm right-handed and I've broken my right arm._

The door opened and a nurse came in, but she saw that he was awake and rushed from the room again, making Arthur's head spin a little as he had barely had time to focus on her. Soon, Arthur heard footsteps echo down the corridor, sounding hurried and desperate, and a moment later Francis came in, looking distraught.

"Arthur!"

 _Francis._

"Oh, _mon dieu_ Arthur! You're awake!" Francis came over to the bed, hesitantly but gently reaching out and touching his cheek.

 _Francis._

 _What happened, Francis?_

Arthur tried to speak but his throat felt dry as a desert and rough as sandpaper. The nurse held up a glass of water with a straw, gently putting the straw between Arthur's lips so he could drink.

Francis stepped back, his eyes glistening with tears but he allowed the nurse to make sure Arthur was okay before he had some time with him.

After a few minutes, Arthur was able to speak, though his voice was hoarse and quiet. Francis pulled up a chair close to the bed so he could hear him, and he sat down as the nurse left.

"What…time is it?" the Englishman asked softly, and Francis smiled despite his tears.

"It's eight in the evening, _cher_." He replied, gently taking hold of Arthur's left hand.

Arthur paused a moment, before he seemed to realise what that meant. "why aren't you performing in France?"

"I cancelled the show – "

"What?!"

Francis sighed. "Arthur, I was worried sick about you. As soon as I found out you were in hospital, I cancelled the last show."

Arthur hesitated, before groaning and trying to sit up, but his chest exploded with pain again and he laid back down instead. "you – You should have gone on with the performance."

"And leave you here to recover on your own? I couldn't have done the show anyway if I knew you were in hospital."

The agent sighed again. "You idiot. I'm supposed to further your career, not inhibit it."

"Arthur, I think you know by now that you mean more to me than my career does. There's no contest." Francis leaned over, gently placing a kiss to Arthur's forehead. The Englishman blushed but smiled a little.

"Thank you…for staying with me." He finally said, his voice even softer and meeker.

Francis smiled. "Well, I wasn't going to just abandon you. Besides….it was my fault this happened in the first place."

"It wasn't your fault, Francis – "

" _Oui_ , it was. If I hadn't kissed you, you wouldn't have even been outside the hotel and you wouldn't have been hit by that car." At this, the singer lowered his gaze to the floor, tears welling up in his eyes again. Arthur realised Francis had been beating himself up about it, and now he felt Francis' hands tremble in his own. Francis' hands had not trembled so much since he first gave up smoking, and the realisation hit Arthur.

"Have you started smoking again?" he asked gently.

Francis froze, looking up at him as if afraid Arthur would be disappointed in him. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. "A-After you got taken to the hospital, I couldn't take it anymore. I-I needed a cigarette, and – well…the reason I wasn't here when you woke up was because I was smoking…" he looked down again. "I'm sorry…"

Arthur sighed, but smiled weakly. "It's alright, Francis. I helped you quit before, and I will help you again."

"I'm the one who should be helping you, _cher_." Francis protested a little, gently kissing Arthur's knuckles. "I'll be fine."

Arthur studied his face, feeling guilty that he had caused Francis so much grief and worry. "Come here, love." Francis looked up, silent tears slipping down his cheeks but he came closer, gently resting their foreheads together.

"I thought I was going to lose you, _cher_." Francis whispered, closing his eyes as he held Arthur's hand tightly.

The Englishman smiled, tilting his head up to peck Francis' lips gently. "It will take a lot more than a speeding car to get rid of me."

At this, Francis' beautiful smile returned, and he nodded gently. "I'm so glad." He cupped Arthur's face ever so gently, his touch light and careful as he kissed him sweetly and softly. Arthur smiled against his lips, this time not caring about the implications.

 _Francis loves me. That's all that matters._

XxX

Arthur had been in hospital in Milan for a few weeks, but he was slowly recovering. Francis visited him every day, much to Arthur's protest, but Francis always brightened Arthur's mood.

Now, Arthur was sat up in bed, watching Francis' music videos on the television on the facing wall. He loved Francis' music and he would settle for recorded performances when he couldn't see him live. Francis himself knocked on the door, before coming in and pulling a face at the television.

"Why are you watching that shit?" he teased gently, kissing his cheek as he sat down.

Arthur smiled. "Because I want to. It makes me feel like I'm working."

Francis chuckled, for once not turning off the television as he saw it made Arthur happy. "You're recovering, you're allowed to not work."

Arthur hummed in response, torn between looking at Francis and Francis' music video. The Frenchman noticed this and laughed in amusement. "Do I have to compete with myself for your attention?" he teased again, before cupping his face gently. "You're being discharged today. We'll fly back to Paris and then I can look after you in my own home. How does that sound?"

Arthur pouted slightly. "Will I be able to watch your music videos?"

Francis rolled his eyes but nodded, grinning. "Anything for you, _cher_. I'll even give you your own personal concert if you wanted."

Arthur laughed at this, and it hurt his chest but he didn't care. He didn't want to worry Francis, and he didn't want Francis looking after him all the time either. "Sounds like a wonderful idea~"

XxX

Francis had fussed over Arthur all the way back to France, being hyper alert if he showed any signs of discomfort. They had flown back to Paris on a private plane, so Arthur could have more space and comfort, and now they had arrived at Francis' mansion. The Frenchman helped Arthur inside to one of the downstairs bedrooms, so he wouldn't have to face climbing stairs just yet.

"Francis, you don't have to go to so much trouble for me, you know." Arthur protested, as Francis had made up the spare bedroom with roses on the bedside table and a large television so that Arthur could watch Francis' music videos.

Francis only smiled. "Oh shush and enjoy it. Once you're fully recovered you won't get any more special treatment." He teased, kissing his cheek gently as he helped Arthur into the bed, supporting him with comfy pillows. "There. Are you comfortable?"

The bed was so soft that Arthur felt like he was on a cloud, and he smiled. "Very."

Francis chuckled. " _Bien_. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat~" Arthur looked up at him, smiling to himself. He found it sweet that Francis was so concerned with accommodating him, but he shook his head.

"I'm alright, actually."

Arthur didn't miss the slightly disheartened expression on the Frenchman's face, but he soon recovered it with a smile. "Well, if you need anything, just give me a shout."

"I will…" Arthur smiled, as Francis had put a jug of water on the bedside table, as well as the television remote and his phone. Francis smiled, gently and almost shyly kissing his cheek, before leaving the room.

Arthur sighed, before turning on the television and watching Francis' music videos again. He loved them, but he found himself missing the company of the Frenchman. This house was huge, and even though Francis was nearby, he felt miles away to Arthur.

XxX

Several weeks passed with Arthur making a slow but steady recovery, and soon he was able to get up and move about without too much protest from his chest and broken arm. After the first week of Francis fluttering around him like a nervous moth, Arthur had insisted that he go and do some work instead. Since then, Francis had been working on a new single, but he wouldn't let Arthur come with him to the recording studio and he wouldn't even talk to Arthur about how it was going. But Arthur just figured Francis was trying to reduce his worry and stress by leaving him out of the loop while he recovered, so Arthur didn't press for information.

Now, it was rather late and Arthur was wandering around the house trying to find the Frenchman, but when he began sensing the delicious odour of dinner, he quickly made his way to the large, shiny kitchen. Francis was there, humming to himself and cooking dinner for two, having got home an hour ago. Arthur had never been much of a cook, but he smiled to himself as he realised just how talented Francis really was. His fans never saw the domestic side of the Frenchman, but this was a side that Arthur loved more than anything.

He stood in the doorway, leaning against his left shoulder as his right arm was still in the sling. "I didn't hear you come home."

Francis started at Arthur's voice, glancing over his shoulder but he smiled and shrugged. "I thought that you were resting so I didn't want to disturb you, _cher_."

Arthur smiled, as over the past few weeks of living with the Frenchman but barely seeing him had made Arthur cherish these little moments. He came over, wrapping his left arm around Francis' slim waist and half-hugging him. It was the best he could manage, but Francis got the message as he turned and embraced the Englishman gently, as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

"I missed you…" Arthur mumbled, nuzzling against Francis' strong chest. He wasn't too good with giving affection, but Francis loved it when he tried.

"You did?" The singer smiled brightly and his eyes sparkled at the thought of Arthur missing him. "That's so sweet~"

Arthur blushed, biting back a comment resembling 'shut it' or 'fuck off', and instead leaning against Francis, savouring his embrace and charming smile.

Francis chuckled at this, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you would tell me to shut up." He probed slightly, pulling back just enough to meet Arthur's gaze, but instead of giving him an answer, the Englishman only leaned up and kissed him softly.

They hadn't shown too much affection since Arthur's accident, and Francis had been too scared that he would hurt him if he tried. But now, those thoughts flew from his mind as he held Arthur close against his chest, kissing him back with all the love he could muster.

Arthur smiled, reaching up and tangling his hand in Frances silky hair, allowing Francis to eagerly deepen the kiss.

The two were so consumed by love for the other, that the dinner cooked away in the oven, and when they finally remembered it, the meal was considerably blackened.

XxX

Arthur woke up to the dull throbbing in his right arm that he had now grown to expect. The minute he began feeling comfortable, his body felt obligated to remind him of his broken limb. He sighed to himself, groping the bedside table for some painkillers. When he couldn't find any, he rolled over to ask Francis where they were, but his side of the bed was empty. Arthur blinked in surprise, glancing at the clock. It was three in the morning, and he and Francis had shared a bed for a few weeks now.

 _Where is he?_

Arthur let out a groan as he tried to shrug the fatigue off his mind, getting out of bed and trudging downstairs to get some painkillers and a glass of water. Once he had pacified the throbbing in his arm, a soft melody floated to him from across the mansion. Arthur knew Francis had a music room where he would go to just spend time by himself practicing or writing new songs, and Arthur's curiosity got the better of him. He hadn't heard Francis sing for ages, and his heart craved it as much as his ears.

The tired Englishman followed the soft melody, and as he got closer he could distinguish the soft, angelic voice of the singer and the soft strumming of his beloved guitar. He crept closer, pushing the door ajar and thankfully it didn't make a telltale creak. He smiled to himself as he saw Francis, sitting with his guitar resting on his lap, strumming it with the grace and care that he always did. He was singing a song that Arthur didn't recognise, but his silky, beautiful voice washed over Arthur, more effective than any painkillers in taking his mind off his injury.

He moved a little closer, but accidentally nudged the door with his foot, and the movement caught Francis' eye. The Frenchman stopped singing suddenly, widening his eyes slightly for a moment but he sighed in relief, smiling. "Arthur – are you trying to make a habit of sneaking up on me?" He teased softly, putting his guitar to the side as he stood up.

Arthur chuckled. "Sorry, love. I didn't want to interrupt your wonderful singing. What song was that?" He asked casually, though he was inwardly dying to know as he adored it.

A rare blush dusted Francis' cheeks as he looked down a little. "Ah – nothing. Just a little something I've been working on….it's just scribbles and idle strumming right now…."

Arthur seemed to think otherwise thought as he came over, sitting next to him. "Well, I thought it was mesmerising."

Francis blinked but smiled at the compliment, as even though Arthur loved him, flattery from the Englishman was still as rare as a blush from the Frenchman. Yet here they were.

After a few moments, Arthur smiled, gently taking Francis' hand. "Come back to bed. You have a busy day tomorrow."

Francis pouted slightly, but he interlinked their fingers as he allowed Arthur to lead him upstairs. " _Oui_ , alright."

His pout soon disappeared once they were in the bedroom, as Arthur pulled him close, capturing his lips in a sudden but passionate kiss. Francis was a little caught off guard, but he smiled against his lips, kissing him back with as much passion as he had put into the songs he sang.

He and Arthur both shared a melody that night, though this would be one for their ears only.

* * *

 **A/N: so Arthur's okay! And I thought after the wait, you guys deserved a fluffy chapter, so** ** _voila_** **!~**

 **Please review!**


	8. Vogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (or Vogue obviously).**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

For once, Francis was awake before Arthur, and the singer smiled to himself as he kissed Arthur's cheek, still feeling happy and content from the night before. He slipped out from under the covers, shivering slightly before pulling on some fresh clothes, not wanting to disturb the slumbering Englishman. Checking the time, Francis realised he would be late if he spent too much time admiring his beautiful agent, so he tore his cerulean gaze away, getting ready hurriedly before going downstairs and making Arthur breakfast, always making sure he had the time to do that, at least. He left a note beside the breakfast and some painkillers, before silently leaving the house to go and record his new song.

XxX

Arthur woke up a few hours later, having not been roused by his usual alarm because he was still working from home, but no phone calls had woken him either, which was strange. Still, Arthur appreciated the extra few hours of rest as he got up and showered, dressing with ease as he had grown used to accommodating his broken arm, before shuffling downstairs to be greeted by the breakfast Francis had made for him. Reading the note put a smile on the usually reserved Englishman's face, as he was basking in the glow from last night as well, and he ate the breakfast happily, his only sadness being at the fact Francis wasn't there to share breakfast with him.

XxX

Francis was home a few hours later than he had been the past few weeks, and so Arthur had taken the liberty of attempting to make dinner, but after three attempts he had given up and ordered takeaway instead, hoping that Francis wouldn't notice the horrible smell emanating from his beloved kitchen.

When Arthur heard the front door open, he almost bolted up from the sofa, as he had been craving Francis' presence for the whole day, spending every spare minute thinking about him.

"Francis, you're home." He tried not to give away how much he had missed him, but the Frenchman saw past it immediately and chuckled.

" _Oui_ , sorry I'm late, but I wanted to finish what I was working on." He embraced Arthur and the Englishman melted at his touch and his scent, hugging him back instantly. "I have something for you~" Francis purred, his lips brushing Arthur's ear provoking a blush to spread across Arthur's cheeks.

"You do?" he asked, his curiosity aroused as his emerald eyes met cerulean orbs.

Francis nodded, taking a blank, plastic CD case from his pocket that contained an equally blank, anonymous disk.

"What is this?" Arthur asked, not knowing what it could possibly be.

"Why don't you play it and find out?" Francis teased, handing him the disk. Arthur rolled his eyes but went over to the stereo they had in the living room, inserting the disk and impatiently poking the 'play' button to find out what it was. Francis hung back, loitering in the doorway as he was now doubting whether Arthur was going to like it. Part of him wanted to see the Englishman's reaction, and part of him wanted to grab the disk and hurl it out of the window.

But Arthur's expression softened as he heard the recorded melody of a secret song Francis had recorded, just for him. It was a beautiful song about how much Arthur meant to Francis, and with each word Francis sang, Arthur could hear the love in his voice. It was enough for tears to well in his eyes, and he hid his face from Francis just so the Frenchman wouldn't tease him for getting so emotional about it. But it was the most beautiful song Arthur had ever heard, because it was filled with emotion and meaning, and it was like a serenade.

He said nothing until the song had ended, and even then he remained silent for a few minutes, making Francis' anxiety about the gift peak.

"… _Mon cher_?" his voice was gentle and hesitant, and he thought that maybe Arthur didn't like it after all, and he would say something to pretend he had liked it and then never listen to it again. This made Francis' face fall, but then Arthur turned to him, and Francis saw he was crying. "Oh, Arthur – did I upset you, _amour_?"

As soon as he closed the distance between them, Arthur latched onto Francis in a tight hug, not able to find the words to thank him, but he buried his face against Francis' chest, until he felt the Frenchman's arms around him. Francis was still concerned though, and he gently put a hand on Arthur's cheek, wiping his tears away and tilting his head up to face him.

" _Cher_?" he asked again, and this time Arthur smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"You're so perfect, Francis. The song was absolutely beautiful...thank you." At this, Francis smiled in relief, before Arthur connected their lips in a deep and loving kiss, trying to reciprocate the love that was conveyed through Francis' song.

When they eventually pulled back, the singer chuckled. "That's the only copy of the song that exists. I didn't know if you would want me to publish it or not."

Arthur hummed a little in thought. "It's a beautiful song. I think you should publish it, as long as I get to keep this one."

Francis smiled again and nodded. "Of course, that copy is yours forever, _cher_."

At this, Arthur smiled his rare but stunningly handsome smile, holding Francis close and thinking of just how perfect his Frenchman was.

XxX

Arthur ended a very important business call and sighed in satisfaction. He had been up for an hour and his plan had been to let Francis sleep in, but this call meant Francis' schedule had shifted for the day, but he had a feeling Francis wouldn't mind once he found out why.

He went into the bedroom where the singer was sleeping on his front, naked and with only the duvet to conceal him, but Arthur almost found it a shame the duvet was there. He sat on the edge of the bed, gently tracing his cool fingers down Francis' sun-kissed back, and then he leaned down, placing gentle kisses over his shoulder blades, which earned a sleepy groan from the Frenchman.

"Wake up, love." Arthur whispered, coaxing Francis to obey by running his hand gently over his back, massaging his shoulders soothingly.

"…Hm?" Francis slowly dragged his eyes open, his voice thick with sleep and his hair unruly from the passion of last night.

Arthur smiled, pecking his lips affectionately. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." He teased softly, waiting for Francis to become a bit more coherent. The comment earned him a smile as Francis blinked and ran a hand through his hair, as Francis became more awake.

"Your schedule had changed a bit today. Do you think you can be ready in an hour?"

Francis hummed softly, groaning. "What for?" he was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, feeling seduced by the warmth and comfort of the bed.

Arthur smirked, milking the news as much as he could. "Oh, just a little photoshoot."

Francis only looked puzzled. "Photoshoot?" he repeated, his accent lacing the word and making Arthur want to kiss him for being so adorable in his half-awake state.

"Hmmhm. For a company you like." The Englishman was drip-feeding information and now Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Which company?" he asked with a bit more curiosity now.

"Vogue." Arthur shrugged, as if it was nothing, but he knew full well that Francis had adored Vogue ever since he had learned of the magazine's existence.

Francis widened his eyes, before blinking. "Vogue?"

"Yes, you know, that magazine that you may have heard of."

Francis let out a strange squeak. "W-Why would they want me to do a photoshoot?"

Arthur smiled again. "Because I thought modelling would go nicely with your current career, and when I called Vogue they were interested."

Truth be told, Arthur had been trying to get Francis a modelling opportunity for ages, because he knew how stunning the Frenchman was and he thought it should be appreciated. Francis beamed and sat up, hugging him tightly and making Arthur chuckle.

"Don't spend too long picking an outfit – they'll have their own clothes for you to change into when you get there, alright?"

Francis nodded and beamed again. "Oh _mon dieu_ , I never thought – Vogue?" he seemed to be in disbelief, but nonetheless he scrambled out of bed, showering at lightning speed and getting dressed. Arthur had never witnessed him get ready so fast and the sight was very amusing to him, making him smirk as he watched Francis dash about the bedroom, frantically drying his hair and checking his makeup and constantly asking Arthur how he looked.

"You look as stunning as always." Arthur replied the final time, before checking his watch. "Shall we?" he offered Francis his arm once he was ready, and Francis beamed, sliding his hands around Arthur's upper arm and kissing his cheek, before allowing the Englishman to walk with him to the car that had arrived to pick them up.

XxX

 _Francis is so beautiful._

Arthur stood there behind the Vogue crew, watching Francis pose for the photoshoot. In every outfit and in every pose he looked so perfect that Arthur craved Francis' embrace more and more with every photo that was taken. He hugged his paperwork to his chest, as if to compensate for Francis' current unavailability, and continued to observe Francis striking pose after pose.

The lighting from the studio made Francis' eyes sparkle and his intense stare made Arthur's heart skip a beat. He was sure that millions of people would love seeing these pictures of Francis in the magazine, but Arthur felt a burst of pride and happiness that he was the only one who could be with Francis.

One thought made Arthur pause though. He realised that he wanted Francis to be his, and he wanted to be able to look at Francis and say for certain that they belonged together. The only thing was, he wasn't sure whether Francis would want the same thing.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Francis came up to him, on a break from the photoshoot. He was even more stunning face to face, and Arthur felt himself beaming at the Frenchman.

"Hey." He greeted, unable to tear his gaze away from Francis' beautiful eyes.

Francis noticed this, and chuckled, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Are you alright, Arthur?" he tilted his head as he sometimes did in curiosity, and Arthur found himself noticing the little habits that Francis had, and falling in love with him even more.

"Uh – yes, I'm fine. Sorry." He mumbled quickly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, but Francis only smiled.

"What were you thinking about?" Francis probed, intrigued by Arthur's flustered response.

"Nothing." Arthur replied a little too quickly, which made Francis even less convinced, but he decided not to question it further.

"Well, I'm exhausted already." Francis didn't show it though, as he looked bubbly and energetic.

"Don't worry, only three more hours of this." Arthur teased, making Francis pull a face, but he knew better than to complain as he was having a lot of fun, enjoying every minute of modelling.

Arthur smiled, before Francis was called back off his break, and the Englishman had the pleasure of continuing to watch the photoshoot, feeling his heart beat faster as he realised he wanted to be with Francis forever.

* * *

 **A/N: so, I've kind of hinted in this chapter what is going to happen, but let me know what you think is going to occur in the next chapter.**

 **Please review!**


	9. Jealous

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

 _There, perfect._

Arthur smiled to himself as he observed his handiwork: the dining table was set out beautifully with a vase of roses in the middle, and two sets of cutlery and placemats were laid out with scrutinising accuracy. There were a few candles surrounding the table and he had put in a disk of romantic music which was now playing faintly. Arthur knew it was probably a bit too much, but he wanted everything to be perfect for Francis.

He had contacted one of Francis' favourite restaurants for dinner for the two of them, as Arthur didn't want to ruin the atmosphere with his mediocre-at-best cooking, and now he placed the two plates of food on the table as well.

Now there was only one thing missing – Francis himself.

With every second that Arthur waited he began to feel more nervous and jittery, as he hadn't told Francis of his plan, wanting to surprise him.

 _But what if he doesn't like it?_

Only a few minutes had passed, but to Arthur, a billion doubtful thoughts had hurtled through his mind, and he stood up, wanting to just clear it all away and forget he had ever attempted to make this happen. But as he grabbed his plate of food, he heard the front door open and then the Frenchman announce that he was home.

Putting the plate back down, Arthur took a deep breath and then met Francis in the hallway with a smile.

"Welcome home, love. How was your day?" he asked as calmly as he could, but Francis instantly detected the nervousness underpinning his tone.

"Are you alright, Arthur?" Francis asked without missing a beat, causing Arthur to panic a little more.

"Uh – yes, of course I am. I was just started to get worried because you were late home." He lied, grasping for any excuse to convince him, but this only made Francis more suspicious.

"I'm only a few minutes late, _cher_. What's going on?" Francis worried that something had happened to Arthur, but the Englishman decided to finally reveal what he was trying so pitifully to hide.

"Well, it occurred to me that we've been…together for a little while now, and I thought it would be nice to actually go out on a date with you…" Arthur had started confidently, but he trailed off after mentioning the date idea, losing his confident start.

Francis blinked at him, but then he smiled. "You want to go on a date with me?" he asked, instigating a cute blush to spread across Arthur's cheeks.

"W-Well, it's only proper, don't you think?" his voice resembled a squeak now, flushing with embarrassment.

Francis nodded though, gently kissing his cheek to reassure him. "That's sounds like a wonderful idea. Where would you like to go?"

Arthur blinked but smiled, relaxing at the delicate kiss to his cheek. He took Francis' hand, coaxing him into the dining room to show him the set up. "I thought we could have the date here, if that's alright with you."

The singer stopped in his tracks as he saw the beautiful dining table display, and he realised that Arthur had put so much thought into this. The Englishman had folded the napkins into little origami roses and for once he wasn't playing Francis' own songs, which made the Frenchman happy as he hated listening to his own music.

"This…is amazing, _cher_." His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath taken away by the cosy and romantic atmosphere.

Arthur felt a weight lift off his shoulders at Francis' approval, and he beamed. "I'm so glad you like it, love." He had even bought Francis' favourite wine for the occasion and now Arthur poured it carefully into two glasses. Arthur wasn't a huge wine drinker, but he had to admit Francis had wonderful taste.

Francis thanked him, sipping the wine before smiling as Arthur pulled his chair out for him. "You're such a gentleman~" he complimented, thanking him again as he sat down, before Arthur sat opposite him.

"Of course I am." Arthur teased in return, already feeling more relaxed from Francis' disarming smile.

"You know, this is amazing for a first date, but you've set the bar high for future dates, _cher_." Francis observed with a smirk before trying the food. He knew instantly that it came from a restaurant but he found it sweet that Arthur had gone to so much effort just for their first date.

"Have I?" Arthur tilted his head slightly with a smirk. "Well you're in charge of the second date so I guess you're going to have to 'one-up' me."

Francis chuckled at this, nodding. "Alright, challenge accepted." He practically purred, already thinking of what he could do for their next date.

The rest of the evening was timeless to the both of them, as they spent ages talking even after they had finished dinner; sipping their wine until they felt merry but they were both still clear-minded.

Arthur finally noticed the late hour as the conversation finally came to a lull, and he hummed. "Is that the time already?"

Francis blinked, glancing at his watch before pulling a face. "We have a busy day tomorrow as well." He stood, clearing the plates before Arthur could protest. "I'll clear up and then we can go to bed."

Arthur wanted to take the plates from him but he still couldn't do much with his right arm, so he settled for clearing the rest of the table while Francis washed the dishes.

Once Arthur had cleared everything away, he felt strong arms slide around his waist from behind and Francis smiled, nuzzling his neck slightly before kissing his cheek. " _Merci_ for this date, _cher_." He purred, and Arthur melted into his arms a little.

"Anything for you, love." He smiled, turning around in his hold and connecting their lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

XxX

The next day Arthur launched himself back into the busy schedule he had evaded while recovering from his injuries, and had fallen back into his usual role.

"Francis, wake up." He had been up for an hour and even though they now shared a bed, he had allowed Francis to sleep for a bit longer. But now he patted Francis' thigh gently to rouse him, trying not to be seduced by the fact that Francis was shirtless and very handsome. Francis gave a sleepy groan, burying his face in the pillow but he was hiding his smile, remembering how Arthur used to yell at him to get up and now he was so gentle, coaxing him to get up rather than ordering him to. But still, Francis wouldn't make it easy for him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Francis, I know you're awake." He perched on the edge of the bed, gently stroking his hair affectionately.

Francis smiled, loving how affectionate Arthur could be in moments like these. He mumbled into the pillow. "Non, I'm not."

Arthur chuckled at this, leaning over and gently kissing his shoulder blades, coaxing him to get up more willingly. "Come on, love. We have work to do."

Francis hummed happily, finally rolling over to face him and he teasingly pouted. "I don't want to."

His agent raised an eyebrow but smiled, leaning down and kissing him softly. He always loved how Francis' accent was thicker when he was still half-asleep, and he gave in to Francis' unintended seduction. Francis hummed, happily kissing him back as he definitely preferred this to being woken up by yelling and insults.

Arthur almost forgot why he needed to wake Francis up as he kissed him a little deeper, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him. But then his phone rang, making him automatically pull back to answer it, not missing the pout on Francis' features.

He smiled in apology, getting up off the bed and leaving the room to answer the business call, and Francis sighed, yawning before finally dragging himself out of bed to shower.

XxX

Arthur had never considered himself to be a jealous man, but now he felt seriously tested. Today they were filming a music video for the song that Francis wrote and recorded for Arthur, but an actor was representing Francis' lover instead of Arthur. The song never named Arthur specifically, which meant it could still be published as Francis' music, but now Arthur was watching Francis and the actor together and jealousy ignited within him.

It wasn't Francis' fault: as far as he was concerned this was just part of his job, and he wouldn't even think that Arthur would have a problem with it. But he did.

The Englishman saw that the actor representing him was very attractive, and although he knew Francis was not interested in the actor, Arthur couldn't help comparing him to himself. He knew he was so lucky to have Francis, and he was so scared that he would easily lose him, so he decided to make sure he was the best partner Francis could ever have.

XxX

After a few hours, Francis was allowed a break, and he drifted over to Arthur with a smile. The Englishman had retired to a back room to do some paperwork, partly for some peace and quiet, but mainly so he wouldn't have to see Francis with that actor. The singer found him with ease, and he perched on the edge of the table Arthur was using for his work.

" _Bonjour, cher_." He smiled, but he didn't miss the slight frown on Arthur's features before he had been aware of the Frenchman's presence. Now he looked up and returned the smile.

"Hello, love." He greeted, remembering how jealous he had felt before but he tried to suppress it.

"What are you doing, hiding away in here?" the singer tilted his head in curiosity, able to read Arthur really well despite how he tried to hide it.

"I just thought I'd get some work done while you were filming." Arthur replied half-honestly, putting his pen down and standing up, so that he was in front of Francis.

Francis raised an eyebrow but didn't move, still perched on the table. "I thought you wanted to watch it though – that's what you said before."

Arthur shrugged, lowering his gaze slightly.

Francis blinked but then grinned. "Are you jealous?" he had figured it out so quickly that Arthur was a little flustered.

"W-What? No – what would I be jealous of?" he blushed faintly, but he met his gaze again as Francis gently placed a hand on his cheek.

"How about the actor that I've had to pretend to love for the past three hours?" Francis teased, a smirk playing on his features which only made Arthur want to kiss him.

Arthur hesitated, nibbling his lower lip softly before sighing. "Alright, fine. I am jealous of him. I know it's not real, but – "

Francis smiled, cupping Arthur's face and gently rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbones. "You have no reason to be jealous, _cher._ You know I only have eyes for you, and we've been through too much for me to have any interest in some shallow, vain actor."

Arthur paused at this, watching the movement of Francis' lips as he spoke, his accented words washing over the Englishman and suddenly he forgot that they were at work and that they were supposed to be professional, as he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss.

Francis let out a noise of surprise, his hands letting go of his face and hovering by his head for a moment, before he melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Arthurs neck and pulling him closer. Arthur let all his jealousy and love for Francis pour into the kiss, his tongue claiming Francis' mouth possessively. Francis let out a moan of surprise and pleasure, as Arthur had never been so dominant with him.

When Arthur finally pulled back, the singer blinked up at him with a dazed expression, his lips slightly bruised from the passionate kiss. A cute blush had spread across the Frenchman's features and he gave a dazed and lazy smile, wanting another kiss, but then the filming crew resumed their work and Francis was called back to continue filming his music video.

The Frenchman pouted. "That's not fair." He whined, but he smiled again, slowly letting go of Arthur. "You owe me another one of those kisses later." He purred, pecking his lips before returning to filming.

Arthur watched him go, a smirk playing on his lips as he felt triumphant. He had taken Francis by surprise and he knew that the Frenchman would be craving another kiss like that for the rest of the day, and so would Arthur.

* * *

 **A/N: so Arthur got a little bit jealous there. Review and let me know whether you prefer nervous/shy or possessive/dominant Arthur XD**


	10. Award

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Arthur sighed as he ended his fourth business call of the morning, and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. He was in his study, trying to complete paperwork using his left arm as he still couldn't write with his right arm, but he had gradually learned how to write reasonably well with his other hand. He checked his watch, realising that it was time to wake Francis up, but as he left the study he heard someone out on the balcony that overlooked the large garden and swimming pool of the mansion. He approached, seeing Francis with his elbows resting on the balcony railings, a cigarette placed between his lips lazily.

"Francis?" Arthur came and stood next to him, placing a hand on his arm gently.

Francis hummed, glancing over at him with a smile and taking the cigarette from his mouth, allowing the smoke to slip past his lips but he turned away from Arthur so that it wouldn't blow in his face, before turning to face him again. "Morning, _cher_."

Arthur smiled, not liking that Francis was smoking, however. "Did you sleep well? I'm surprised you're up this early."

The Frenchman shrugged, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Maybe I'm finally getting used to waking myself up." He teased softly, but he didn't want to admit that he had craved a cigarette enough to get up early for it. "Do you fancy some breakfast?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Arthur blinked but nodded. "Sure, but we have to be at the airport in two hours so we need to be quick."

Francis hummed in confirmation, putting out his cigarette and heading downstairs to make some breakfast. Arthur followed him, but he was consumed by worry for Francis. When he had first met him, Francis smoked like a chimney and it was already becoming a problem for his health. Now, Arthur knew that Francis probably didn't even realise how much he was smoking, but he was determined to help him quit like he had before.

Wandering into the kitchen, he smiled to himself as he saw Francis humming and dancing to the radio as he made them breakfast, noticing how he moved his hips and he remembered how much he loved to see Francis dance. It had been a while, as Francis hadn't performed since Arthur's accident, but Arthur could see that Francis definitely still had the skill and passion for dancing as much as singing.

He smiled, making some tea and skirting around Francis so he wouldn't get in his way, but he couldn't help continuing to admire the Frenchman, loving how Francis was comfortable enough around him to be himself.

Soon, the breakfast was ready and Francis sat opposite Arthur to eat. Arthur was lost in his thoughts, but he blinked out of it when Francis sat down, and smiled.

"Thank you, love. This looks wonderful."

The two of them ate breakfast quietly but happily, before Francis went upstairs to get ready. Today was going to be a busy day for them: they were flying to America for an annual music awards ceremony. Francis had been nominated as he had every year, and so they had to attend. But Francis always loved it as he got to see his fans, and if Francis was happy then Arthur was too.

Francis took longer than usual to get ready, and Arthur went upstairs to check on him, finding Francis' clothes strewn all over the bed and Francis looking somewhat distressed.

"I don't have anything to wear!" he exclaimed, and Arthur rolled his eyes, able to see very clearly that Francis had at least ten different outfits he could wear, but he wanted a new one.

"We can go shopping when we land in America, alright?" Arthur promised, chuckling. "For now, just wear something else."

Francis looked visibly relieved at this: it was very important for him to look his best for his fans, but Arthur would admit that he gave in to Francis way too easily when it came to buying new clothes. He nodded, smiling again as he selected an outfit that was one of Arthur's secret favourites, and after a nod of approval from the Englishman, the singer finally got dressed.

XxX

They arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare, running into some fans who were also travelling to America just to meet Francis. The French singer was more than happy to greet and take pictures with them, while Arthur and Francis' bodyguard watched the display. Arthur saw how Francis smiled and hugged his fans, and he saw how much Francis meant to them. But again Arthur found himself wishing Francis was hugging him, and smiling at him with that beautiful, addicting smile. He understood that this was part of Francis' job; to be a charming public figure who adored his fans. But Arthur had become rather possessive over Francis recently, and he craved his attention and affection more than anything.

Francis spent a while with his fans, and only came back to Arthur and his bodyguard when their flight was boarding. A happy smile was on his features as the Frenchman always felt liberated and cheerful after making his fans' day. Arthur returned the smile slightly as they found their first-class seats, before taking Francis' hand gently and kissing his knuckles.

Francis blinked at this but then smiled, loving it when Arthur was affectionate. These were rare moments but when they made themselves known, Francis was quick to appreciate them. He leaned over, pecking Arthur's cheek softly. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, knowing that Arthur's affection was nearly always triggered by something that made him feel like he hadn't appreciated Francis enough.

The Englishman nodded. "Yes, I'm alright." He replied swiftly, not giving anything away. But Francis didn't mind, keeping hold of Arthur's hand and interlinking their fingers as they flew to America.

XxX

Arthur sighed in exasperation, on the verge of pulling out his unruly blonde hair, as Francis dumped yet another shirt into his arms. Arthur had made the mistake of saying that they could spend as long as Francis liked shopping, and he had made an even bigger mistake in offering to hold Francis' shopping for him. The Frenchman loved shopping to excess, and now Arthur was almost totally submerged in a pile of clothes that Francis just had to have.

The French singer heard his sigh and raised an eyebrow, looking back at him. "What? You offered~" he teased lightly, doing this deliberately because he knew Arthur would put up with it.

Arthur sighed again. "You're a bugger, you know that?" he sounded grumpy, but Francis came over and pecked his lips, and Arthur's bad mood thawed instantly as he loved even the slightest bit of affection from Francis. Besides, he couldn't wait until Francis would emerge from the changing rooms and show off his new outfit, before vanishing back behind the curtain to try on another one.

Soon enough, Francis did just that, and Arthur sat patiently to observe the impromptu fashion show. Francis looked amazing in everything he wore, but the sly Frenchman decided to test Arthur a little more, and he purposefully tried on a pair of impossibly tight leather trousers, complete with an almost see-through white shirt that was only barely buttoned, so most of his toned chest was showing. He grinned as he saw himself in the mirror, knowing Arthur would definitely react to the outfit, before emerging from the changing room in the same confident manner as he had the other outfits.

Arthur was just finishing up another business call, but in mid-conversation the Englishman stopped, suddenly losing track of his words as he saw the gorgeous Frenchman before him. Francis smirked as he watched Arthur's emerald gaze trail over his chest, and then lower to his waist and even lower. The singer chuckled as he knew Arthur was mentally undressing him.

"Do you like this one, _cher_?" Francis asked as Arthur fumbled with his phone, trying to hang up without tearing his gaze from Francis.

Arthur finally ended the call without a word of explanation, swallowing slightly as his mind was already running wild with the things he wanted to do to Francis. "I-I – " was all he could manage, his voice nothing more than a squeak as he couldn't bring himself to glance away from Francis for even a moment.

Francis smiled at this. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." He purred, coming over to Arthur and briefly brushing his lips against the Englishman's stunned, quivering lips, before turning around to go back to the changing rooms, allowing Arthur to get a tantalising new angle of his form from behind.

Arthur could barely supress the urge to follow Francis into the changing rooms, but with some effort he managed to stay seated, forcing the lust to the back of his mind as he knew he could have Francis to his heart's content later.

XxX

Francis admired Arthur as he watched him getting ready for the award ceremony. Arthur was accompanying him as his agent and his date, and he was dressed in a formal black suit with a white shirt, and a black tie. Francis thought Arthur always looked so handsome in a suit, and now, watching him tying his tie, Francis couldn't help coming closer to him. He gently took over from Arthur, tying the Englishman's tie perfectly.

Arthur blinked but raised an eyebrow. "I can tie my own tie, you know."

Francis chuckled. " _Oui_ , I know. But I wanted an excuse."

The Englishman raised his eyebrow further at this. "An excuse to do what?"

Francis responded by pulling him closer by his tie, kissing him softly and sweetly. Arthur responded by wrapping his arms around his waist, giving in to Francis' affection. Francis smiled against his lips, letting go of his tie and resting his hands on his shoulders instead, content to be in Arthur's embrace.

When they finally pulled away, Arthur smiled, kissing his cheek and whispering in the Frenchman's ear. "Oh love, you don't need an excuse to kiss me."

Francis chuckled at this, pulling back completely after pecking his lips again, and he gently straightened Arthur's tie. "We're going to be late if we keep this up."

Arthur smiled, admiring Francis in his own black and white suit, only his jacket and tie were white and his shirt was black, creating a smart and alluring contrast.

"Come on then." He offered his arm to Francis, who took it gracefully, and he escorted the Frenchman to their limousine.

XxX

Arthur was fuming. He had never felt so robbed. The award ceremony had issued awards to undeserving artists and although Francis had been nominated several times, he had not won a single award.

Francis was sat next to him in the limousine, not even half as upset as Arthur. "It doesn't matter, _cher._ Really, I don't make my music to win awards." The Frenchman took the whole matter with grace, but Arthur felt it was incredibly unjust and unfair.

"But your music is better than anything those other pricks could even dream of producing!" The Englishman was very proud of Francis, so this was an absolute outrage.

Francis only laughed though, shifting in his seat so he was closer to Arthur than before, and he reached up to play with his hair gently. "Everyone else seems to think otherwise." He pointed out gently, and Arthur huffed.

"Well everyone else are stupid twats." He responded bluntly, causing Francis to laugh again, as it was amusing for him to witness Arthur being so defensive of his music.

"Oh, mon cher. Maybe we'll win something next year, oui?" he tried to compromise, but Arthur was already in a bad mood and he furrowed his brows cutely. Francis smiled at this, before having an idea. "Hm, I think I know how to cheer you up."

The agent paused, glancing up at him. "You do? How?"

"Why don't you have a nice, hot shower when we get back to the hotel, and then…" Francis leaned in closer, purring into his ear. "We can spend the whole night together."

Arthur's face heated up at this but he was no longer angry, instead filled with anticipation of the night ahead and desire for Francis already. "A-Alright, that sounds…lovely."

XxX

The clean, hot water felt amazing running over Arthur's tense shoulder blades, and he sighed, feeling himself relax in the soothing warmth of the shower.

 _Francis most definitely had the right idea_.

Arthur spent a little longer than he normally would in the shower, feeling completely relaxed and calm again as he finally stepped out of the shower, drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist.

However, as soon as he came out of the bathroom, a rush of different emotions surged through him. For there was Francis, lazing on the bed in the very same outfit that they had bought earlier, which had made Arthur lose his words completely. It had the same effect again, as now Francis was purposefully lying in a way that meant he was utterly irresistible to Arthur. The Englishman swallowed, already recalling his previous lust at first seeing Francis in this outfit, as Francis turned his head gently to look at him. His hair was tied up with a ribbon and a glass of wine rested between his slender fingers elegantly, but Arthur wanted nothing more than to pounce on Francis in a completely inelegant fashion.

"I was wondering when you were going to get out of the shower." Francis purred, sipping his wine before setting it down on the bedside table, smirking as Arthur moved closer.

"If I'd have known what you were wearing, I would have skipped the shower completely." The agent replied, his voice low with lust and love for the Frenchman as he abandoned his towel, straddling him on the bed.

Francis laughed at this, and the sound was so delectable that Arthur claimed his lips possessively, wanting the Frenchman so badly that he almost ripped his brand new shirt off his body, exposing his torso.

Oh, they were definitely going to spend the night together. All night, if they had the stamina.

* * *

 **A/N: So a bit more of possessive Arthur for you, as you all said you preferred dominant Arthur to shy Arthur (I agree).**

 **Please review and let me know how I'm doing.**


	11. Forever Yours

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Side note: I missed France's birthday yesterday because I was on holiday so forgive me!**

 **But to make up for it, this chapter will be for Francis' birthday! Yay!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

They had travelled back from America a few days ago, and since then Arthur had kept Francis busy with interviews and rehearsals for his upcoming concert. But today Arthur did not yell at Francis to wake him up. For once the Englishman had turned off his phone and cleared the entire day for Francis. Because today was Francis' birthday, and Arthur had his own schedule planned for Francis today.

Arthur smiled as he stayed in bed, playing with Francis' hair as the Frenchman slept deeply against his bare chest. The agent took in the sight of Francis' sleeping features, having never really had the time to appreciate it before. Part of him was reluctant to wake Francis up because he would disturb the Frenchman's peaceful slumber, and for once he allowed this part of him to win over, letting Francis stay asleep for a while longer as Arthur mentally recalled his plans for the day.

Francis stirred slightly, letting a soft sigh escape his lips as he snuggled closer to Arthur, their bodies even closer now, and Arthur wrapped his arms around him more, loving the feeling of Francis' naked form against his own. Arthur wanted so badly to steal a kiss from Francis as he slept, but he was afraid that doing so would wake up his beloved Frenchman, so he only just managed to resist.

Fortunately, after a few minutes Arthur watched Francis' eyes open slowly as he gently regained consciousness, and Arthur leaned down to kiss his forehead gently as Francis woke up a little more, humming sleepily.

"Good morning, love." Arthur greeted softly, holding Francis close and smiling more as Francis nuzzled against his neck sleepily, mumbling something that sounded vaguely like a response, but it was incoherent as his accent was almost impenetrably thick and he was still half-asleep. Arthur felt like he never wanted this moment to end: he could forget about Francis' stressful career and his own rushing about. All that mattered was they were in each other's arms, not quite awake but fully content to stay here in bed.

Francis took a few minutes to become more coherent, but when he did he smiled, pecking Arthur's lips softly. "Hm, I don't normally get to wake up next to you…" he mumbled, his accent still thick and it made Arthur's heart skip a beat.

"Well, it's not normally your birthday, is it?" Arthur smiled, placing one hand gently on Francis' cheek, the other slipping from his waist down to his ass possessively.

Francis blinked, before smiling brightly. "You remembered!"

Arthur fought back the urge to laugh in disbelief, as he had been thinking about this date for months, just to make sure he wouldn't miss it. "Of course I did."

Francis did not usually celebrate his birthday as they were either on tour or too busy to take time out for even a birthday cake. So now, the Frenchman beamed at Arthur, cupping his face and peppering his face in kisses affectionately. This earned a deep blush from Arthur as the usually stern man chuckled.

"Stop it." Arthur said, but he didn't pull away, actually loving the affection from Francis. Francis finally pulled back, instead cuddling against Arthur's chest again as he was so happy that Arthur acknowledged his birthday this year. "You should get up, anyway."

"Hm, why?" Francis pouted, not wanting to leave the warm, comforting bed.

"Because you'll have a visitor soon." Arthur couldn't hide the smile on his features. He was glad that he knew Francis well enough to predict the most important things to him, and he had organised a full day of seeing people Francis loved but didn't usually get to see, and doing things he never got to do otherwise.

Francis blinked in confusion, but at Arthur's smile he gasped and beamed, lifting himself out of bed far more willingly now as he went to shower and get ready. Arthur watched him go, hoping that everything would go according to plan and that this would be the best birthday Francis had ever had.

XxX

Francis did not take long to shower and get ready, and when he came downstairs Arthur thought he looked amazing. But before he could compliment him, the doorbell rang and Arthur smiled knowingly. "I believe it's for you, love."

Francis blinked but in passing he stole a quick kiss from Arthur, not even giving the Englishman time to retaliate before he answered the door. The front door was out of view from where Arthur had seated himself, but he heard Francis gasp and let out a surprised, joyous squeak at the visitor. Arthur sighed in relief, as he had called Francis' little sister, Michelle, a few days ago to arrange her visit, and the excitable young woman had found it hard to keep the visit a secret from Francis, but she had evidently succeeded.

Francis embraced Michelle tightly, so happy to see his sister as he hadn't for almost a year. Michelle beamed and hugged him back, standing on tiptoes to do so as she was a whole head shorter than her older brother. The two spoke in rapid French as they greeted each other, and Arthur could not keep up with their conversation using his limited knowledge of French vocabulary. But he stood and went to the hallway to join them with a smile, feeling a burst of triumph as he saw Francis' beautiful smile. That was exactly what he had wanted to see.

"Oh, Arthur, you arranged this?" Francis asked, before pecking Arthur's lips again gratefully. Michelle giggled.

"Are you ready to go, Francis?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and melodic, echoing her chirpy nature.

Francis blinked. "Go where?"

"Shopping!" Michelle beamed at him, and Arthur smiled too as he knew Francis loved shopping.

The French singer paused and beamed right back at her, before glancing back at Arthur. "The three of us?"

"Oh, no. Just you two, love. It'll give you a chance to catch up. But make sure you're back by four." Arthur shared a look with Michelle, but Francis seemed oblivious.

"Alright~" The Frenchman opened the door again for his sister, before turning back and pulling Arthur into a quick but definitely passionate kiss, pulling back just enough to whisper against his lips.

" _Merci, mon cher_." His French accent made Arthur want to pull him back for another kiss, but then Michelle dragged her brother off to go shopping, and Arthur was left in the hallway, his mind still reeling from the heated kiss.

XxX

Francis and Michelle had spent most of the day shopping and chatting together gleefully, but Francis' thoughts had drifted back to Arthur, wanting to spend at least some of his birthday in his lover's arms. So he and Michelle arrived back at the huge mansion just after two, bustling through the door with armfuls of shopping bags. Arthur heard them come home and he laughed aloud at the sight of them.

"Did you buy the contents of every shop in Paris?" he asked teasingly, making Francis only grin.

" _Oui_ , naturally." He teased back, dumping the bags in the hallway unceremoniously. Arthur smiled at this, and Francis thought he looked very cute wearing casual clothes instead of his usual suit.

Michelle smiled, before checking the time. "Oh – I have to get going. My flight leaves soon."

Francis' face fell a little at this, but he knew that Michelle also had a busy schedule and he nodded in understanding.

" _Merci_ for coming to see me, _cherie_." He beamed, hugging his little sister again, and Arthur said goodbye too, before she left in a limousine that Francis had insisted on paying for.

Once she had gone, Arthur hummed softly. "Well, honestly I didn't expect you back so soon…" Francis turned back to him with a smile. "What would you like to do?"

The Frenchman hummed in thought, before a perfect idea came to him. "I want to watch a film, with you. We can cuddle and spend time together."

Arthur blinked at the simple idea, but it sounded amazing at the same time, so he nodded. "Alright, that sounds lovely."

Francis was happy that Arthur approved of the not-very-exciting idea, and he held his arm, walking to the living room with him.

XxX

Somehow, the two of them had ended up asleep together on the sofa, the film continuing to play despite the lack of audience. The only thing that startled them both awake was the sound of the doorbell a second time, followed by an impatient knock. Francis sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes as he took a moment to realise what was going on. Arthur woke up abruptly too, but he remembered what else he had planned and checked the time, before smiling to himself. "It's for you again, love."

Francis ran a hand through his hair, pouting slightly as he had loved the warm feeling of being in Arthur's arms, but when the impatient knock sounded again, he sighed and rolled off Arthur, getting up and answering the door. This time, he widened his eyes.

"Gilbert? Antonio? _Mon dieu_!" There were two men standing on the doorstep; one albino, one olive-skinned, and both with goofy grins on their faces.

"Happy birthday, Franny!" they said in unison, Antonio's Spanish purr overpowered by Gilbert's obnoxious German. These men were Francis' best friends, and Arthur had never particularly liked them, because they were a stupendously bad influence on the Frenchman. They drank far too much and had been kicked out of almost every bar in most capital cities, depending on where they had been coordinated enough to travel together. But Francis loved them both, and the three of them always had fun, so Arthur had decided to set aside his dislike for the distasteful men for one night, in favour of giving Francis a chance to let his hair down, so to speak.

Arthur had come up to stand next to Francis, and now he held his hand gently. "I thought it would be nice for you to see them again, love. But remember that you're famous now, so – try to avoid negative publicity, alright?"

Francis chuckled, nodding. "Oui, I won't drink too much, I promise."

Arthur didn't believe that for a second, but he had instructed Francis' bodyguard to go with them to keep an eye on them and make sure they got home safe.

He leaned in close, whispering in Francis' ear. "You'd better not, because I want you to remember what will happen when you come home~"

Arthur had never sounded so damn sexy, and Francis felt a faint blush spread across his cheeks as he wondered what Arthur had in store for him. But he was brought out of his thoughts when Gilbert and Antonio piled into the limousine that awaited them, and Arthur tapped his ass lightly to usher him into the limo as well, winking when Francis glanced back. The Frenchman grinned, pecking Arthur's lips before Gilbert thrust a drink into his hand already, which he had located in the limousine.

But now that Francis was curious about the night ahead, he really did go easy on his drinking.

XxX

It was the early hours of the morning when Francis finally came home. The bodyguard had dropped off Gilbert and Antonio at their hotel, leaving them to stumble drunkenly into the lobby and search for their room keys. Francis was at the stage where he felt a warmth from the drinking, but he was still clear-headed enough to be aware of whatever Arthur had planned, but he wondered whether it would be too late. He crept into the mansion quietly, just in case Arthur was asleep, but as he passed the living room he glimpsed a light on, so he peered inside.

Arthur was sat in his armchair, a book lazily held in his hand as he had fallen asleep waiting up for him. Francis felt guilty, but he came over, gently kissing Arthur to wake him up as he knew it would not be comfortable for him to sleep there. Arthur hummed softly, before sitting up more and blinking.

"Oh – Francis, you're home."

"Oui. Sorry I'm late, amour." Francis replied softly, but he paused as he noticed a little present on the arm of the chair, and he raised an eyebrow. "What is this, cher?"

Arthur stretched a little, before smiling. "Your birthday present." He handed the gift to Francis, who perched on Arthur's lap to open it. The Englishman smiled, nuzzling tiredly against Francis' side as he delicately unwrapped the silver, elegant wrapping paper. Inside was a large, square box which Francis could tell from glance was a jewellery box, and his curiosity peaked. He opened the box once it was free of the wrapping paper, and his breath hitched.

Inside was a beautiful, slender silver necklace with a small, flat pendent, and on the back was engraved "Forever yours." This made Francis' face light up, and Arthur was blushing deeply, hiding his face in Francis' shirt.

"Oh Arthur. This is beautiful!" Francis exclaimed, feeling a burst of happiness at the sweet little gift. He shifted in place so Arthur could put the necklace on him, and Arthur obliged. As he fastened the necklace, Arthur placed a gentle kiss to Francis' slender neck, just above the place where the chain of the necklace sat.

Francis hummed happily, before Arthur took his hands and led him upstairs. The Frenchman followed him eagerly, craving the affection that was so rare but sweet when he received it from Arthur.

Arthur gently coaxed Francis to lay down on the bed, before leaning over him and kissing him lovingly. Francis kissed him back, tangling a hand in his hair as Arthur slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. He broke the kiss only to pull his shirt off, and then the Englishman placed chaste kisses all over Francis' chest, making the Frenchman groan softly in pleasure.

That night, their love making was gentle, slow and romantic. It made a change from the usual rough, passionate sex they usually engaged in, and Francis loved every moment of it.

This was definitely the best birthday he had ever had, and Francis smiled to himself as he fell asleep in his lover's arms, playing with his new necklace with delicate fingers.

* * *

 **A/N: So I know this was a bit all over the place but I didn't have much inspiration, and I wanted to publish this asap. But please review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter!**


	12. Too Many Cigarettes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

 **Side note: As some of you may have noticed, I have been mainly updating at weekends. However, this is going to be less reliable now because I recently got a part-time job, so now I will try my best to update whenever I can. This probably won't make a difference to most of you but I just thought I would let you know~**

 **Anyway, on with the story!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

In the days following Francis' birthday, their busy schedule had resumed. Francis had many rehearsals and interviews to go to, and Arthur had countless business calls, meaning he was constantly on his phone. But this did not stop him from noticing something very important and very worrying. Francis was smoking at every opportunity: on his rehearsal breaks; in the limo on the way home; in the garden after dinner.

And Arthur had noticed the effect that smoking so much had begun to take on his health. His voice was slightly raspy and not as powerful as it had been, and it broke Arthur's heart. The worst part was that Francis didn't seem to notice he was even smoking so much, let alone the effect it was having on his career as a singer.

Arthur didn't know how to approach the situation, as he could tell that Francis' addiction had come back full force and he probably wouldn't respond very well if Arthur confronted him in the wrong way.

Right now, Arthur was doing paperwork in the study of Francis' large mansion, and from the window he could see Francis down in the garden, lounging on a swinging seat that rocked slightly as he took long, lazy drags of his cigarette. The Englishman sighed, putting his pen down and standing to observe the Frenchman, wondering how to separate Francis from his cigarettes. He could get rid of all Francis' packs of cigarettes, however he knew that would be very unwise, considering it would upset or possibly enrage the Frenchman. So instead, he decided to calmly voice his concerns to Francis.

XxX

Francis was lost in his thoughts, and he hadn't even noticed that it had begun to rain. The raindrops landed softly in his golden hair, trickling down his cheeks in an imitation of tears. He didn't know why, but he felt like something was missing. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he allowed his thoughts to drift, not really sure what he wanted. Surprised, he found himself daydreaming of having a family, picturing some children running around the mansion and he and Arthur being loving, fun parents to them. A smile grew on Francis' features as he thought about it, but he jumped suddenly as Arthur sat next to him, having not even realised the Englishman was there.

"What were you thinking about, love?" Arthur asked gently, having noticed how Francis smiled to himself.

But Francis blinked, his cheeks flushing with a deep pink. "Hm? Oh, nothing much." He took another drag of his cigarette, as if trying to silence himself from telling Arthur his foolish thoughts. "What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were doing paperwork."

Arthur shrugged, kissing his cheek gently, though he hated seeing Francis smoking. "I decided to take a break."

Francis hummed, unaware of Arthur's concerns as he took another drag, before putting out the cigarette in the ashtray he had brought outside with him. It already had three cigarettes in it, and Francis had not even been out here for that long.

"Actually, I have something I want to talk to you about, Francis." Arthur confessed, and Francis was instantly suspicious.

" _Quoi_?" Francis asked, patting his pockets as he couldn't remember where he had put his cigarettes, but before he could find them, Arthur took both his hands gently and held them in his own, rubbing his knuckles gently.

"I'm worried about you, Francis." The Englishman began as nicely as he could, not wanting to upset Francis. "I'm concerned that you've taken every chance that has presented itself to light up a cigarette."

Francis' look of confusion turned to a frown when Arthur mentioned smoking, and he retracted his hands from Arthur's. "I don't smoke that much – "

"Francis, stop denying it. If you keep going on like this, it will drastically affect your career." Arthur thought he was choosing his words carefully and wisely, but Francis' sudden defensiveness told him otherwise.

"My career? Is that all you care about? You're not _just_ my agent anymore, Arthur." Francis hugged himself, and Arthur realised that even after being with him for all this time, the Englishman still did not know how to say the right thing.

 _Damn it. Why can't I just say something right for once?_

"I didn't mean it like that, Francis, but your voice – "

Francis huffed slightly, standing. "I'm going inside."

Arthur sighed, standing as well. "Francis, please. I'm just worried about you."

"I'm fine. I can look after myself." Francis' tone had become harsh, and Arthur had never heard it like that before. "I don't need you treating me like a child."

Francis left those words to hang in the air as he went inside, but Arthur kept repeating the "I don't need you" over and over in his mind, feeling a painful tug at his heart. He used to relish in the fact that he could organise everything for Francis and make sure he was eating and sleeping well and the little things like that, but now Francis wasn't listening to him. He felt redundant, unsure of what authority he even had over Francis now that they were in a relationship.

XxX

Since their conversation, Francis had taken it as a personal challenge to be independent, and he had left for rehearsals without Arthur. This upset the Englishman a little but he guessed that Francis just needed some time away from him, so he made his own way to the rehearsal, in time to hear Francis perform. He stayed backstage, but he wanted more than anything to hold Francis, to protect him from his own addiction.

Francis, on the other hand, showed no sign of being affected by their conversation, and although it had impacted him, he hid it well. He sang his heart out, immersing himself in the performance as he always did during rehearsals, when suddenly, for the first time, his voice faltered. He was supposed to hit a high note as he usually did with ease, but this time he couldn't. Francis stopped singing instantly, more shocked than anyone else. Arthur heard the falter, and he knew that it was because of his smoking.

After a stunned moment of silence, Francis gestured for the music to begin again, not making a single comment about the falter and only hoping that it wouldn't happen a second time. However, the second time his voice faltered even more on the high note, and the Frenchman fell silent again. But even though in the past he would have kept trying until he got it right, this time the singer fled the stage. Arthur blinked, before widening his eyes as he registered the Frenchman leave, before he rushed after him.

When he found him, Francis was sat outside the back entrance of the building, trying to light a cigarette with shaking fingers. He had tears staining his cheeks and he was hunched over as if ashamed. The sight broke Arthur's heart, and he sat next to him, wordlessly taking the cigarette and the lighter out of Francis' hands.

"You shouldn't do that, love." He murmured gently, before pulling Francis into a hug. He half expected the Frenchman to get mad at him like he had this morning, but to his surprise, Francis burst into fresh tears, clinging to the Englishman desperately.

"I-I'm ruined!" the Frenchman managed between sobs. "I can't sing anymore!"

Arthur sighed, playing with Francis' golden hair gently as he kissed his forehead lovingly. "Yes, you can. You just need to stop smoking so much."

Francis sniffed a little, and for a moment Arthur thought he had just sighed, but then it registered that Francis had actually whispered something.

"I can't stop."

Arthur hesitated, holding the Frenchman in a strong and protective embrace. "Why not?"

"I-I'm not strong enough." Francis admitted sheepishly, nuzzling against Arthur's neck and the agent felt the singer's breath caress his skin gently.

His heart ached for Francis. He knew it had been really difficult for him to quit smoking the last time; it had taken months and Francis had suffered badly from withdrawal. He promised he would never get into such a predicament again, but what with Arthur's accident and everything, it was hardly Francis' fault that he had broken his vow.

The Englishman gently cupped Francis' face, wiping away his tears and nuzzling their noses, before resting their foreheads together. "I'll help you. We can do this together, okay?"

Francis, despite his tears, smiled slightly at Arthur's affection. He nodded almost imperceptibly, but did not relinquish his grip on his agent. But Arthur didn't mind. He allowed Francis to cling to him as he rocked him gently in his arms.

Although he was relieved that they had made up from earlier, Arthur knew that it may be too late to save Francis' voice, and his heart cracked at the thought of not being able to hear Francis' angelic melody as the perfection it used to be. But they would try anyway, for both their sakes.

* * *

 **A/N: So this was a crappy chapter because I have not been in the writing mood recently, but I hope it didn't seep into the writing too much.**

 **Anyway, please review and let me know whether you think Francis' voice will be saved, or has he smoked too much?**

 **Also I promise the next chapter will be less crappy XD**


	13. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

The night was quiet, save for the gentle patter of the rain against the large windows of their bedroom. Arthur listened to it, hoping the melody would lull him into sleep, but it only made him more restless. He couldn't sleep nowadays without Francis beside him, but the Frenchman had not come to bed. Arthur sighed, the emptiness of the bed gradually forcing him to get up. It was the early hours of the morning, and yet he knew that Francis didn't intend on going to bed anytime soon. The Englishman pulled on a thick jumper to ward himself against the coolness of the night, his bare feet padding on the polished floor as Arthur made his way downstairs tiredly.

He found his beloved Frenchman sat at the kitchen table, staring out of the window at the rain, though Arthur suspected he wasn't really seeing it, probably lost in his thoughts instead.

"Love?" Arthur ventured, alerting Francis to his presence.

The Frenchman jolted slightly, having indeed been lost in his thoughts. He turned to glance at Arthur, his eyes dull with mourning and his hair dishevelled. He looked pale and he had been sleeping even worse than Arthur, as the shadows under his eyes were almost as dark as the sky outside.

Arthur's heart wrenched at seeing him like this. The love of his life was miserable and he could not do anything to cheer him up. On the kitchen table in front of Francis, there was an array of magazines and tabloids. On each of them was a variation of the same story: " ** _Francis Bonnefoy Lost His Voice_** "; " ** _Career Ruined By Smoking_** "; " ** _Surgery Gone wrong_**!". On each one, underneath the headline, was a different picture of Francis, some recent, some clearly photoshopped, but all of them horrible. Arthur snatched them off the table, dumping them in the bin with such force that Francis flinched.

After Francis' singing voice had been ruined by too many cigarettes, the Frenchman had quit smoking again, with Arthur's help, but his voice had not improved. So Arthur had spent days researching methods of improving Francis' singing voice, and he had come across the idea of surgery. Francis had been terrified at the prospect of surgery, but he had begrudgingly agreed. However, as with all surgical practices, there was the small risk that something would go wrong. And something had. Francis could no longer sing at all as well as he had used to, and although his voice had been spared from complete desecration, his career was truly finished.

It had been a few days since news had got out about the devastation the surgery had caused to Francis' career, and Francis had been depressed and barely even able to function since he could no longer sing. Arthur had tried to comfort him, but he knew how much singing meant to the Frenchman, and without it, he was lost.

Arthur sighed, coming over and sitting in the chair next to Francis at the table, before pulling his lover into a hug.

"Why do you still look at those tabloids, love? You don't want to keep getting upset…" Arthur stroked Francis' hair as he felt him rest his head against the Englishman's shoulder.

"They're everywhere…" Francis' voice was barely above a whisper. His throat would be sore if he spoke too much because the surgery was still recent, but he would soon be able to speak normally.

Arthur sighed, kissing the top of Francis' head and threading his fingers through his lover's soft, but slightly tangled hair. He wished he could fix Francis' singing voice, and see him smile again, but he doubted he would see him smile ever again. He knew how much Francis' singing meant to him – to both of them.

"I know…" Arthur had no idea what the right thing to say would be, as Francis no longer had a career, and that also meant Arthur was out of the job.

All was silent for a few moments, before Francis mumbled something, nuzzled against Arthur's neck. "…Where do we go…from here?"

The question was simple and to the point, but Arthur found it stumped him.

"I don't know." The Englishman responded pitifully, but it was true. The two of them had never really had a back-up plan, as Francis' career had been an instant success and had never faltered until now.

Francis' face fell, as he had become dependent upon Arthur again for comfort and guidance, and here he was telling him he didn't know what to do now.

After another few moments of silence, Arthur stood, gently coaxing Francis to get up too. "Come on, you need to rest."

Francis protested, shaking his head and pulling his hands away when Arthur grasped them. "I can't. I won't be able to sleep…"

But when Arthur took his hands again, the Frenchman's protests ceased, and he allowed his lover to lead him upstairs. Arthur didn't force him to get into bed straight away, and instead he ran a bath for him. Francis sat in the bath, worn out from the stress of losing his career, and Arthur gently washed his hair, taking care to use Francis' preferred products. Francis never usually let Arthur wash his hair for him, but now he leaned back against the side of the bathtub, allowing the Englishman to carefully do so.

"Arthur?" Francis muttered after a while, glancing at him before turning his cerulean gaze to the ceiling of the bathroom instead.

Arthur blinked, having been focused on washing Francis' hair, and now as he rinsed out the conditioner, he looked at him. "Yes, love?"

Francis hesitated, a question forming on his tongue but it seemed reluctant to pass his lips aloud. Arthur noticed this, and he kissed his cheek. "What is it?"

"Well…" The Frenchman refused to meet his gaze, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He was nervous. "How would you feel…about starting a family?"

The Englishman paused. "I've never really thought about it." He confessed, but when he noticed the disheartened expression that flickered on his beloved Frenchman's features, he quickly added. "But I think I would like to have a family someday."

At this amendment, Francis finally seemed willing enough to look at him, and his hopeful sparkling eyes met Arthur's emerald gaze. "You would?" Arthur would have been a fool to miss the hope and longing in Francis' voice.

"Of course. I think you would make a wonderful father." Francis managed a tiny smile at this, the most he had shown since the surgery.

"So would you…" he replied, his expression one of relief now, as he had been afraid to ask about a family before.

Arthur took his hand gently, kissing his knuckles before he leaned closer to Francis and pecked his lips affectionately, which earned another small smile.

"We will have a family, I'm sure of it." Arthur made the promise, confident and determined to see it through.

Francis closed his eyes, and for the first time since the surgery, he found himself beginning to doze. Arthur smiled at the sight, rousing Francis just enough to get him out of the bath, dry him off and dress him in some snuggly pyjamas, before tucking the exhausted Frenchman into bed. Arthur smiled slightly again as he realised that Francis had fallen asleep almost immediately, and he gently kissed his forehead.

"Goodnight, love." He whispered, before settling into bed next to him and wrapping his arms around him. And for the first time since Francis' career was lost, both of them had a restful, undisturbed sleep.

XxX

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Arthur suggested out of the blue. Francis blinked, looking up from his book and letting his gaze rest on the Englishman in curiosity.

"Anywhere in particular _, cher_?" He had noticed that recently Arthur had been acting a little strange. He was clumsier than usual, and Francis thought that sometimes Arthur even seemed a bit nervous, though he had no idea why.

At first Francis thought it was because of the awkwardness of Arthur getting a new job. He had insisted that he really didn't mind, but Arthur had felt guilty about working as an agent to another celebrity, and so he had gotten a slightly different job dealing more with the publishing and sales of records for different singers. He had asked Francis for a reference, and Francis was more than happy to provide it, as he would happily do anything for his lover.

But now Arthur was content with his new job, so Francis had no idea what could be making his Englishman so nervous.

Arthur shook his head in response to Francis' question, blushing faintly. "Ah, no – I just thought, since the weather was so lovely this evening, that it would be nice to enjoy it."

Francis arched one eyebrow, indicating that he wasn't fully convinced by Arthur's answer, but he smirked softly nonetheless. "Alright."

The two of them grabbed their coats, Arthur fumbling in his pockets briefly before they left.

XxX

It was early evening when they had set out, but now it was almost sunset and Francis was tired and cold.

" _Cher_ , why don't we head back? It'll get dark soon…"

"Just wait a minute…" Arthur replied, having been saying that for the past twenty minutes. He was holding Francis' hand, practically dragging him up a small, winding path that snaked up a hill rather too steep for Francis' liking.

"Arthur – " Francis protested, his tone becoming more of a whine. His feet hurt and his designer shoes were really not made for hiking up a hill in the dimming light of the evening.

"We're almost there." Arthur muttered, more to himself than anything.

Francis furrowed his brows. "Almost where?"

Arthur didn't respond, instead just tugging his lover up the hill, ignoring his whining.

Francis was about to have a full-blown hissy fit when they reached the top of the hill, but his eyes widened and he suddenly forgot all about his aching feet.

From where they were, they could witness the most beautiful sunset Francis had ever seen. The hues of blues faded into pinks and oranges, and the sight took the Frenchman's breath away.

Arthur smirked slightly as he knew Francis would love such a beautiful display of nature, and he discreetly took something out of his pocket while Francis was bust admiring the view.

"It's beautiful…" Francis breathed, the words barely audible even though his voice had returned to its normal volume now.

Arthur smiled, taking Francis' hands again. "I thought it would only be fitting to bring you here for a special moment."

Francis hesitated, his gaze drifting to Arthur. "What do you mean _, cher_?"

In response, Arthur got down on one knee, and all at once Francis' heart started pounding as everything made sense.

 _Arthur had been so nervous because he was going to propose!_

"Francis," Arthur began, looking up at the trembling Frenchman. "You are my everything. From the moment I met you, my life revolved around you. At first it was just because that was my job, but then you not only stole my time, but my heart too."

Francis watched the movement of Arthur's lips, hearing the words echo slightly in his head as he tried to come to grips with what was happening.

"I fell in love with your music, with your voice, and then with you." Arthur continued with a smile, holding one of Francis' hands as he held a small ring box in the other. "And we have since been through so much together. We've toured the globe side by side, and I've seen you at your best and your worst. I would do anything for you, but I didn't realise that it was mutual until my accident…"

At the mention of Arthur's accident, Francis felt tears form in his eyes, but he let Arthur continue, staying silent as he knew Arthur had probably rehearsed this for weeks prior to this night.

"When you told me that you had cancelled the tour just because of me, I knew that I was lucky enough to have found someone who loved me back. I was so scared that you would never love me, and now I am determined to never let you go. We have been through so much, you and me. And I would like nothing more than to stay by your side for years to come." Arthur let go of Francis' hand briefly, opening the small ring box to reveal a beautifully simple but elegant engagement ring.

Francis fell in love with it instantly. It was perfect. Arthur knew him so well.

"So, love. Will you make me the happiest man in the world, by marrying me?" Arthur was staring up at him with hopeful emerald eyes.

Francis opened his mouth to speak, and a small squeak came out, before he gasped and beamed.

" _Oui! Oui, oui, oui!~"_ Arthur felt huge relief at hearing those words, and he beamed too as the Frenchman pounced on him, embracing him so tightly and suddenly that Arthur almost fell over.

"Oh, _mon amour!_ Of course I will marry you!~" Francis had tears streaming down his cheeks, and they glistened in the glow of the setting sun. Arthur grinned, feeling happiness explode in his chest as he cupped Francis' face, claiming his lips in a deep and loving kiss. Francis kissed him back with just as much love and longing, and Arthur finally realised that he and Francis would be spending the rest of their lives together.

Nothing could make him happier.

Arthur finally pulled back, slipping the gorgeous ring onto Francis' slender finger, and he sighed in relief. "It suits you…"

Francis beamed, the smile never leaving his handsome, overjoyed features. He hugged Arthur again, holding him so close. Arthur held him back just as tightly.

"I love you."

" _Je t'aime aussi_ ~"

* * *

 **A/N: So I'm sorry for not updating in a while but I have a job now so it is harder to find the time to write. But I hope this chapter was worth the wait! This is also the penultimate chapter so please review and let me know what you thought of it! Also what do you think of them starting a family?**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	14. The Final Chapter

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Note: This is the final chapter! I hope you enjoy it! x**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Arthur sighed happily to himself as he took a moment to appreciate the quiet of the morning. He and Francis had been married for five years, and since then there had been very little time to dwell on the tranquillity of the early morning. The Englishman finished the last of his paperwork for the day, still preferring to wake up before Francis and get all his work done before the Frenchman could distract him. He put his pen down, sighing again as he glanced around his study. On the wall he was facing, there were posters of Francis in the prime of his career, which Arthur had collected over the various years of working for the Frenchman. On each poster, Francis looked undeniably sexy, and Arthur smirked lightly at the knowledge that he was married to this man. On the other three walls were various vinyl records and CD's, mostly of Francis' songs but there were also some records that he had published more recently in his new line of work.

Arthur was very proud of his study, and he knew that Francis did not like coming in here because of Arthur's insistent preservation of his career, but Francis let him keep all the posters and records reluctantly. The Englishman smiled softly to himself, standing as he saw it was time to wake the Frenchman, and he left his study, his footsteps muffled by the soft carpet of the landing as he went to their bedroom. Pushing the door open gently, Arthur smiled to himself as he saw the sleeping form of his husband. Francis' breathing was soft and regular, and he did not stir as Arthur came over to his side of the bed. He was lying on his front, his naked, sun-kissed back exposed, and Arthur took a moment to admire him. Francis was in his thirties now, and yet he did not look a day over twenty-five.

Arthur grinned to himself as he suddenly donned a stern tone. "Wake up, you lazy frog."

Francis let out a muffled groan, shifting under the covers. He was still awful at waking up in the mornings, and Arthur delivered a light but firm pat to Francis' ass.

"Get up." He demanded, smirking though as he was purposefully mimicking how he used to wake Francis up, way back when he had only been the singer's agent.

Francis stirred again, burying his face in the pillows to hide his smirk as he knew full well what Arthur was doing, so he decided to respond playfully. When Arthur reached over to pull the covers off him, Francis rolled over and grabbed Arthur's hands, tugging him onto the bed on top of him.

Arthur let out a yelp of surprise, having thought Francis was still too asleep to be so mischievous. "Hey – "

But his protest was muffled as Francis kissed him, pulling him closer. Arthur relaxed easily, loving the Frenchman's sleepy affection as he kissed him back, shuffling closer and pressing their bodies together more. Francis smirked against his lips, one of his hands roaming towards Arthur's ass, when there was a _thump_ that sounded from down the hall.

Francis paused, a soft sigh escaping into the kiss before he pulled back and pouted, his hair dishevelled from sleep and his expression half amused and half irritated. "I was hoping we could have some time to ourselves this morning…" his accent was thicker because he had just woken up, and Arthur chuckled.

"Perhaps we can have some time together once they've gone back to bed." Arthur mused, pecking his lips again as they heard another _thump_.

Francis heaved himself out of bed, pulling on some fresh clothes as Arthur picked up the clothes they had discarded on the floor the night before, and just as Francis finished dressing, the two men heard loud whispering and giggling.

Francis smiled, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door and sure enough there were two sets of knocks, which created a disjointed rhythm.

"Come in~" he called, his smile bright as the door flew open and two little bundles of hyper giggling rushed in, one running into Francis' leg and the other jumping on Arthur, who was perched on the edge of the bed.

"Oof!" Arthur let out a grunt as he was pounced on, and he smiled. "Steady on, Alfred."

Alfred beamed up at him, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief and his blonde hair all dishevelled and messy as he refused to ever brush it.

Francis laughed, scooping up the other boy who had violet eyes and longer blonde hair, much like his own. " _Bonjour_ , Matthew."

"Papa!" Matthew beamed as well, his chubby little hands outstretched to hug Francis' neck.

Arthur smiled as he stood as well, holding Alfred on his hip which he now found very natural.

In the beginning, Arthur was afraid that he wouldn't be a good father, but he knew that Francis wanted a family so badly that Arthur was willing to give it a shot. That had been three years ago, and when he and Francis had first visited their local adoption centre, Alfred and Matthew had instantly been attached to them. Now they were a perfect family, and although the children were still very young, they had already made so many wonderful memories together.

Arthur had fallen into the more stern fatherly role, whereas Francis had easily adopted the more affectionate role of spoiling the children silly. Arthur had often observed that Francis had actually become quite maternal, as he fussed over the two children like an overprotective mother, choosing their clothes and cooking for them and taking them to the park. Arthur was busy working quite a lot but he had learned to cherish the moments when the four of them were together. And he and Francis had fallen even more in love with each other as the years passed. Arthur loved how soft and charming his Frenchman had become, whereas Francis loved how strict his Englishman pretended to be, when in fact he knew he could make Arthur melt with one kiss.

The Englishman was brought out of his thoughts by Alfred tugging on his shirt collar. "Dad! Food!"

Arthur blinked, before realising that Francis had already taken Matthew downstairs so he could make a start on breakfast, and he smiled to himself, carrying Alfred down to the kitchen and sitting him in the highchair next to Matthew, who was happily swinging his legs and giggling at Francis. The Frenchman grinned as he danced to the radio, making breakfast for his beautiful family. Alfred laughed as Arthur rolled his eyes at his husband, causing Francis to laugh as well.

Arthur had thought for a time that he wouldn't see Francis smile or laugh again. Even after they had gotten engaged, Francis had gone through a period of depression from losing his singing voice, and Arthur had not seen him smile for over a year. Now seeing his husband smiling, laughing and dancing as he cooked made Arthur's heart flutter.

The Englishman watched the movement of Francis' hips and the way he mouthed the words to the song that was playing, and he closed the distance between him and the unaware Frenchman, slipping his arms around Francis' waist from behind. Francis gasped in surprise but he soon smiled, turning around in his hold and pecking his lips.

"Breakfast's almost ready, _cher_ ~" he purred, the smile never leaving his features, and Arthur returned the smile, only responding by leaning in and kissing him again. Francis hummed, sliding his arms around his neck as he kissed him back, their lips dancing together in perfect harmony as the Frenchman pulled Arthur closer to deepen the kiss.

"Food!" Alfred suddenly demanded, kicking his legs and only just missing a sharp contact with his brother's leg.

Francis pulled back, pouting slightly at the interruption, but he smiled again as he reluctantly pulled away from Arthur's grasp to give the children their food. Arthur let out a soft chuckle, although secretly he wished that he and Francis could have some time to themselves every now and then. Francis was devoted to his children, and as much as Arthur adored it, he desperately wanted the two of them to spend some time together.

XxX

It had been a long day: Arthur had helped Francis look after the children for the day, and the twins had decided that tonight would be the night to refuse to go to bed. After many repeats of putting the toddlers back to bed and going downstairs, only to trudge back upstairs when one of them got up, the children were finally asleep, having worn themselves out with tantrums.

Arthur flopped on the sofa in exhaustion, having done the last put-back-to-bed routine by himself, and he realised that his husband was nowhere to be found. As much as he wanted to settle down and watch some television, he wanted to share this quiet time with Francis as well. So he slowly got back up off the sofa, exploring the downstairs in search of him.

Arthur was about to give up when he heard the faint strum of guitar strings from the basement which was Francis' studio, although it had not been used in some time. Arthur blinked but ventured down the stairs anyway, stopping in shock at what he heard.

Francis was singing.

It was not quite the perfect, angelic voice that Arthur had loved so much, but it was almost perfect. It was quiet and slightly strained, but it was definitely Francis.

Arthur silently crept down the stairs until he could see his beloved husband with his back to him, plucking the strings of his old guitar and singing one of his old songs. Arthur's heart melted as he heard him, having missed Francis' beautiful voice so much. He beamed to himself as he just stood and listened to Francis for a good ten minutes, before Francis finally sighed, putting his guitar away and turning to face the stairs. He froze as his gaze met Arthur's, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks.

"How long have you been there, _cher_?" Francis asked softly and nervously, still blushing.

"Long enough to hear your beautiful voice again, love." Arthur smiled, finishing his descent down the stairs and coming over to the Frenchman, placing a hand on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me you could sing again?"

Francis sighed, leaning into his touch. "It's not the same. I'm not as good as I used to be…I didn't want you to think I would be as good as before."

Arthur let out a chuckle and shook his head. "You sounded absolutely perfect, Francis. I don't know what you're talking about."

At this Francis smiled, kissing the palm of Arthur's hand gently. " _Merci_ ~"

Arthur smiled, before cupping Francis' face and kissing him gently and lovingly. Francis kissed him back, relaxing in his hold and moving closer.

Arthur smiled and pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together. "I'm so proud of you, love. You've come so far~"

Francis smiled, shrugging slightly before sighing happily. "I love you, _amour._ I doubt I would be able to sing today without you…"

Arthur chuckled at this, shaking his head softly as he silently disagreed, about to say so when they both heard the toddlers crying again upstairs, and he let out a groan instead.

"Ready for round two of 'bedtime'?" he teased, and Francis laughed.

"Of course~" he grinned, taking Arthur's hand and together they walked upstairs.

This was going to be a long night, but neither Arthur nor Francis would trade it for the world.

 ** _~The End~_**

* * *

 **A/N: I finished it! Please review and tell me what you thought of the ending! I'm sorry it took so long but it's finally here!**

 **Thank you for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the story!**

 **Please check out my other stories and I will love you forever! xxxxx**


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